Unexpected Plans
by icyfire
Summary: Life is what happens while you're busy living. Jack and Francie discover that life has an unexpected plan for them.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Unexpected Plans

Author: icyfire

Summary:  Life is what happens while you're busy living.  Jack and Francie discover that life has an unexpected plan for them.

Rating: R.  NC-17 version available at http://omega-17.com/stories/unexpected_plans.htm and at Cover Me.

Ship:  Francie/Jack.  Yes, you read that right.  Francie and Jack. :) No, it's not a pairing I want to see on the show, however, I enjoyed the challenge of making it work for this fic.  At least I think I made it work.

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  You won't be seeing this story anywhere near the small screen any time soon.

A/N:  I blame Jenai and Sprite (yes, the drink) for this story.  I really do.  Not that she asked me for a Frack story.  No, she was just as shocked by the idea as I was.  I had another story idea playing away in my head and teasing Jenai (along with Celli who had her own twisted pairing) that I was hoping she would still like me after I wrote that plot idea.  But after pouring myself a glass of Sprite (beware that stuff), I had this pairing in my head demanding that I tell their story even as I went "where did you come from?"

Thank you to Karen T. for the wonderful beta and encouragement.  Another thank you to Celli for being there from the very beginning and for her beta work.

Happy Birthday, Jenai!  I hope you enjoy this present as much as you enjoyed the last.

***

Francie felt the coolness of the couch beneath her.  It was where they usually fell after a night of dinner and dancing.  Tonight he'd even taken her to see a play.  His mouth bore down on hers.  She knew then that it was going to be hot and fast and furious.

Like it usually was.  The way she liked it.  She could tell herself then that it was just sex.  That eventually everything would burn out and return to normal.  She would find someone else to be with, someone she could tell others about.  Someone who could come pick her up at the door when Sydney was home, who could be taken home to meet her mom and dad.

But then there were the other times.  Where he made slow, gentle love to her.  Where she almost cried because he made her feel so special.  Spun glass in a collector's hands--that's how she felt on those nights.  It was then that she let herself admit to those other feelings.  Feelings she didn't want to have, feelings he wouldn't be interested in knowing about.

Her dress was off her shoulder and half way down her arms.  His lips were on her nipples.  Her bra was lacy and the feel of it and his tongue were incredible.  She gasped and knew it was time to take charge.  She twisted and forced them off the couch.

He landed on the floor without even a grunt.  The flame in his eyes was even hotter as she straddled him.  He liked it when she got aggressive.  It never seemed to bother him to let her be the one in control.  Unlike a lot of the men she had dated over the years, he was comfortable in his own skin.  She started to undo his tie even as she used it to bring his mouth to hers.

His teeth cut into her lips as she heard Sydney say, "Francie?"

She turned around, shocked to see her roommate back home already.  She wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow; he had even double checked before coming to pick her up.

A blush spread across Sydney's face.  Francie couldn't think of anything to say; she couldn't even move.  "I am so sorry, Francie.  I should've called--"

It was then that Sydney noticed the man on the floor.  Her keys fell from her hands.  "Dad?"

Jack reacted first.  He sat up and pulled Francie's dress back together.  He did it quickly, but with gentleness.  Caring.  It was the special way he had of touching her that made her feel exceptional.

She looked at him, her face burning with mortification.  She'd thought about telling Sydney many times, but she had never found the courage or the words.  She'd never wanted her friend to find out this way; this was a nightmare.

"You caught an earlier flight," Jack said.  There was no humiliation in his words.  As he slid out from beneath Francie and stood, he offered her his hand.  Her legs trembled as she stood beside him, looking at the girl who had been her best friend since the seventh grade.  Jack seemed unconcerned.  He was acting as though his daughter had found them eating a ham sandwich or drinking tea or some other innocent activity.

"Yeah," Sydney whispered, looking back and forth at her father and friend with shock and disapproval written on her face.  "At the last minute, Dixon and I caught another flight.  I didn't have time to call--" She looked away and took a deep breath.  When she looked back at them, her face was a cold mask.  "_Anyone_ to let them know."

Francie started to take a step forward, but Jack laid a hand on her arm to stop her.  Sydney didn't miss the gesture.  Her jaw line somehow managed to become even harder.  "You won't be expected in the office in the morning then.  I'll come by and collect you for breakfast," Jack said.

Sydney glared at Francie and then at Jack.  "I don't think that's a good idea.  Sloane will--"

"Be fine with Dixon's report until you get there," Jack said with a hint of steel in his voice.  Francie had never heard him talk that way before, but Sydney didn't seem surprised by it.

"I'm going to go unpack," Sydney said as she reached down and picked up her keys.  "I'll see you in the morning."  Her tone matched Jack's almost perfectly.  However, her voice held a hint of a frustrated child in it.

Jack turned and took Francie in his arms.  She laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scent of his cologne.  His arms were warm around her, and she knew that tonight would be one of those nights that she spent crying in her bed.  Not only because Sydney had found out, but because his gentleness was reminding her that there was more at stake than sex.  Of course, after tonight there would be no more gentleness, no more anything.

"Francie," he murmured into her hair.  She tensed, waiting for the words to come.  "I think you should spend the night at my apartment."

She looked up at him, unable to believe her ears.  Instead of telling her that they shouldn't see each other again, he was asking her to spend the night at his apartment.  His apartment--off limits for even drinks until now.

A part of her wanted to accept, to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity.  But another part knew she needed to face Sydney.  "I need to stay here, and--"

"No," he said before kissing her neck.  "Sydney doesn't fight fair when she's upset.  If you talk to her tonight, you will end up hurt."

She shook her head.  "She's angry, but--"

"She's my daughter, Francie.  She will hurt you."

She looked into his eyes.  "You're having breakfast with her in the morning."

"Yes," Jack answered, stepping back from her.

"She'll still be angry then."

He said nothing.  Then he nodded and adjusted his tie.  "I'll handle Sydney."

"Jack--"

Reaching out, he grabbed her arm and jerked her to him.  His lips slammed down on hers, taking her breath away.  He pulled away, his hand still in her hair.  "I'll take care of Sydney."

A part of her wanted to give in to his command, but she knew better.  Jack Bristow would walk all over her if she allowed it.  "She's my best friend."

"And my daughter."

"And we're both involved," she said as she pulled away.  "I'm not letting her blame you, Jack, if that's what you are wanting.  I made the first move."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she put her fingers to his lips.  "I'll let you talk to her first."

Jack looked over to the side, thinking.  "Very well," he said as he reached down and picked up his jacket from the floor.  "But--" He stopped, obviously unsure how to express himself.

She'd grown used to the uncertainty he sometimes showed.  "I've made up my own mind about you," she said, realizing what he was worried about.  He and Sydney had never been close; he was thinking it might be easy for his daughter to poison Francie against him.  And at one time, she had been.  She'd put all the blame for the lousy relationship between father and daughter squarely on Jack's shoulders.

But now she knew him.  Understood his faults, but saw his strengths, too.  "There isn't anything Syd can say that will change that, Jack."

He reached for her again and wrapped his arm around her waist.  The kiss was soft and tender, and it made her wonder exactly what he felt for her.  His hand found its way into her hair and the kiss became hard, furious.  His tongue scorched hers.  She moaned.

He pulled away, and she saw the sparkle of satisfaction in his eyes.  "I'll see you in the morning," he told her as he turned away.

The sight of Sydney walking into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine didn't even seem to faze him.  He reached for his overcoat and told his daughter that he would see her tomorrow.  The door shut quietly behind him.

Standing in the kitchen, Francie thought about what Jack had said, about what she'd agreed to, and then she thought of all those years of friendship.  It didn't seem right to ignore everything until tomorrow.  She took a step forward, but Sydney's eyes stopped her.  They were ice cold.  "I remember when you used to say you didn't have any use for my father.  I guess now you've found at least one use for him."

Francie gasped.  Sydney picked up her wine glass and left the kitchen without even looking back.

***

Sydney stared at her water glass like it was a crystal ball.  Maybe she wanted it to give her answers.  It was more likely to give them than the man sitting across from her.  So far, neither one of them had said a word to each other that morning.

"Would you like a refill, Sir?" the waiter asked, steam coming from the spout of a beautiful silver coffee urn in his hand.

"Yes," Jack said.  He sat his cup down and actually looked at Sydney as the waiter filled it to exactly the right point--this restaurant wouldn't allow anything but perfection--with dark liquid.  It was rich; Sydney could tell that by looking, but her father had always liked his coffee strong.

The waiter took away their empty plates and left them alone.  Jack took a sip of his coffee.  He sat the cup down on the saucer.  The china gently clinked together.  "I know that the events of last night were a surprise to you.  It's not how either of us would've liked you to have found out about our relationship, but if you have a problem with me seeing Francie, you need to bring it to me," he told her.

"If I have a problem?"  Sydney was amazed that the words managed to get through her clenched teeth.

"Yes," he answered before glancing at his watch.  "Don't bother Francie with it."

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.  "Last night I came home and found you two on the floor."

Her father stared at her, and it seemed like he heard the question she hadn't had the courage to ask.  He answered, almost apologetically, "It wasn't the first time we'd been there."

She inhaled a quick sharp breath through her nose.  Leaning forward, she exploded in a harsh whisper, "I want to know--"

"Our relationship is none of your concern," he interrupted.  "It's between Francie and me."

"And I'm not supposed to ask Francie any questions?  Like how she started screwing my father?"

There was a flash of anger in his eyes, and Sydney liked seeing it there.  But it was gone quickly and the familiar cool demeanor remained in place.  "No, no questions.  No comments.  It's none of your concern."

"My best friend is sleeping with my father; I think a lot of people would consider that my business," she snapped.

Jack sipped his coffee.  "In most cases, yes.  But, Sydney, you have no illusions where I'm concerned.  Finding me with Francie didn't suddenly open your eyes to the fact that I'm not a monk.  Nor is it like I'm cheating on your mother."

Sydney looked at him.  He shook his head and looked away.  "Our marriage was based on a lie.  Those twenty people she killed are just names to you, even William Vaughn, but I knew most of them.  Some I even called friends."

She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.  Had she been watching the interaction between Jack and Irina and thinking like a child whose parents were divorced?  Had she secretly been longing for them to get back together?  She hoped she was more mature than that.  "I haven't--"

"Your childhood was difficult, Sydney.  I know that.  I can't change it," he told her.  "You've usually seen me as the cause of your pain.  I can't change that, either.  But if you need someone to blame about my relationship with Francie, blame me and leave her alone.  Do you understand?"

Anger born of frustration raced through her.  "I understand."

He looked at his watch.  "Good.  We need to go.  I told Sloane you would be in around ten."

***

"You look beautiful," Will said as Francie walked out into the kitchen area.  He was sitting behind the bar eating a piece of cake that she'd baked yesterday.

She tugged at the blue material and exhaled.  "Thank you."

Will heard the nervousness in her voice.  He looked over at Sydney and noticed that she wasn't even looking in Francie's direction.  He set down his fork as he became aware of the tension in the air.

He'd noticed Sydney's strange behavior the second he'd walked through the door.  Actually he'd noticed it on the phone when she'd called, asking him to come over to watch a movie.  Figuring that work was bothering her, he hadn't asked any questions, but now it was obvious something was going on between her and her roommate.

Thinking back, he remembered the long pause when he'd asked about whether Francie would be there or not.  "She's got a date."  The words had been clipped.  Angry.  But he'd been focused on the young man walking through his office door instead of paying attention to the woman on the other end of the phone.

"How's the counseling center?" Francie asked as she changed purses.  He noticed that her hands were shaking.

"Good," he answered.  "But it's a roller coaster every day.  For every person you think you've helped, you find out that another one fell through the net.  Or at least it feels that way sometimes."

Francie stopped fretting with her purse and looked at him.  "I don't think I could do it."

"Sometimes I don't know if I can," he answered truthfully.  "I never thought to be what I am."  He looked over at Sydney and remembered when his life had begun this new path.  "But I'm glad that I am."

Sydney glanced over at him, and he thought he saw the hint of tears in her eyes.  Angry and hurt tears.  He looked over at Francie whose eyes were focused on her shoes.  She began tugging at her dress again.

"Sometimes I think back to my time at the Register, and it feels like a dream or another lifetime or something," he said.  He finished the last bite of cake.

Francie walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.  She silently offered him one, and he nodded.  She walked back towards him--he noticed the darted glance in Sydney's direction--and smiled.  It was tight but genuine.  "Now instead of being an award-winning newspaper reporter, you're an award-winning magazine reporter."

He grinned, embarrassed by all the attention his article in TIME magazine had gotten.  "No, Francie, I'm not."

Setting his bottle in front of him, she slid into the bar seat next to him.  "You're going to win an award for that story," she stated before taking a sip of her water.

He opened his bottle and took a drink.  "Maybe, but I don't look at myself as a reporter anymore.  Reporters are supposed to analytical and willing to look at all sides to a story.  I'm an anti-drug crusader, and that article was my way of informing people about my cause."

Francie looked back over at Sydney, who was still finding the dishes interesting.  Will opened his mouth to demand to know what was going on between them, but a knock at the door stopped him.  The tension in the room somehow managed to grow thicker.  Francie looked almost ill, like she wanted to run but was frozen, while Sydney's shoulders were so tight that Will swore he could see the knots from where he was sitting.

Neither one of them made a move to answer the door.  Will shook his head and walked over to let in who he assumed was Francie's date.  Instead Jack Bristow stood on the other side.  The older man almost looked nervous, but Will pushed that thought aside.  It took more than showing up at Sydney's house to make Jack jumpy.  Hell, after seeing just a small part of what Syd and Jack dealt with almost on a daily basis, it took a lot to make him nervous now.

"Jack, come in," Will said as he stepped back.  "Syd, your dad's here."  It was then he noticed the rose in Jack's hand, and suddenly all the anxiety in the room made sense.  Will struggled to come up with some joke to cut through the tension, but he couldn't think of a single thing that would help.

Finally, he turned to look at Francie and smiled.  She grinned back at him, and he saw some of the strain leave her eyes.  He reached for her hand, and she laid hers on his as he helped her stand.  As Will led her to her date--who was staring down at her--Jack said, "You look beautiful."  Will heard the note of tenderness hidden behind the gruffness.

"Thank you," Francie answered, her heart obviously in her throat.

Sydney didn't look in their direction, and Jack managed to look at his daughter over Francie's bowed head.  Someone who didn't know him might not see the emotions warring on his face, but Will knew him.  He could see the frustration and the concern and the pain.  

Shifting from foot to foot, Will said, "You two have a good time.  I'm going to enjoy torturing Syd by watching movies I've already had her watch a thousand times."

"But they're classics!" Francie said, mocking him, as she rushed towards the door.  He'd said that line almost as many times as he'd had them watch _North by Northwest_.

"Yes, they are," he said with a laugh.  He closed the door behind them and turned to look at Syd who was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking lost.  "You pop the popcorn," he told her, "and I'll get the movies into the DVD player."


	2. Chapter Two

"Their Fettuccini Alfredo isn't as good as yours," Jack said as he set down his fork.

Francie felt her face warm.  "Thank you.  But I think their chef is a little more talented."

He looked at her for a moment, and she felt a wonderful heat start to spread through her body.  "I don't give empty compliments, Francie.  If I say it, I mean it."

She grinned and looked down.  "I know.  It's just--" Unable to find the words she wanted to say, she took in a deep breath and returned her gaze to him.  Instead of finishing her thought, she said, "I can't believe you'd never tried it before I made it for you."

It had been their only dinner together that hadn't been served by a waiter.  She'd insisted on being able to fix him something at least one time, although he'd said he preferred seeing her relax the entire night instead of worrying about cooking.  He'd given into her demand of eating at home with more ease than she'd expected.

It had been a special night.  After he'd helped her wash the dishes, they'd found their way to the couch.  But unlike most dates, they had sat next to each other and watched a movie--something that had been re-run to death since its release in the early 90s, but Jack had never seen it.

As the credits ran, they'd necked on the couch.  The night had been filled with tender and slow lovemaking.  Her heart still ached as she remembered that night.  It was the first time she'd ever thought that she might be in love with Jack Bristow.  She'd cried the next morning in the shower as Jack fixed her breakfast.

Looking over her shoulder, she blinked away tears.  She barely noticed the discreet dance floor in the corner, but Jack apparently thought she was looking at it.  "Would you like to dance?"

"Yes, please," she answered, tossing her napkin next to her plate.  Jack took her hand, and they walked towards where a few other couples were swaying to the music.  Being a restaurant owner, she noted how quickly the bus boys moved to clear their table.  Except for their wine glasses, it would be clean by the time they returned.

Jack's arms went around her just as the last strand of music filled the air.  She grinned and leaned her head on his shoulder.  "I tried to talk to Sydney last night," she started.  Even though she knew they needed to have this conversation, she had been avoiding it all night.

The band started playing again and every muscle in her body tensed.  His fingers squeezed hers before relaxing again.  She couldn't believe her bad luck.  Not this song.  Not now.  Looking up at him, she said, "We can go sit back down."

He looked like he was considering it, but then shook his head.  He started leading her around the dance floor.  He was amazingly graceful.  Even though she hadn't been that familiar with slow dancing before dating him, he led her so easily that she felt like she was floating on a cloud.  "No," he said.  "I want to dance with you."

"My aunt used to baby-sit me, and my cousin Jenny used to play this song over and over.  She loved General Hospital.  Still does, actually," she said, knowing that she was sounding like an idiot but needing to talk over the song.  "They used this song a theme song for Luke and Laura.  Well, they weren't actually 'Luke and Laura' then because Laura had died--"

She almost tripped over her feet, but Jack's arms kept her looking graceful.  "I'm sorry," she said, not apologizing for her clumsiness.

The bandleader told them to laugh instead of cry when they thought of Laura, but Francie didn't want to listen to him.  She didn't want to think about Laura at all.  Jack's wife.  Sydney's mom.  The saint who had died too young.

"I remember hearing this on the radio," Jack said, each word clipped and passionless.  She doubted he listened to the radio much, especially top 40, but "Think of Laura" had been one of those songs played over and over again.

"I always think of this balcony scene with Laura watching Luke and him not knowing she was there," she mumbled.  It was a vague memory, and she wasn't even sure why she remembered Genie Francis crying on that balcony, but she did.  Just as she remembered her cousin being all teary eyed as she watched that scene.  Now when she heard this song, she'd think of Laura Bristow.  And Jack.

"I tossed the radio against the wall," he admitted.  He looked down at her, and she saw the pain in his eyes.  She didn't want to see that pain, she didn't want to know how much he cared for his wife.  She had a million questions she wanted to ask him about her.

"I know you'd want it that way, Dear Laura," the singer sang as the music ended.

Jack started walking her back to the table.  "I don't want dessert tonight," he said.

Her heart fell, knowing that meant the end of the evening.  An early end.  They couldn't go back to her place as usual; Sydney was home.  "I understand."

Stopping, he turned to look at her.  "Perhaps we could have drinks at my apartment."

She smiled.  "I'd like that."

***

The credits ended, and Will looked over at her.  After letting her stew all night, it was clear that he'd decided it was time to discuss what she'd been thinking about instead of watching the movie.  "Are you ready to talk now?"

She looked at him and feigned innocence.  "What?"  It was then that she noticed the tingling feeling in her fingers.  She had been sitting still the entire night with her arms crossed and her spine stiff.  Her muscles were starting to protest.  Reaching one arm across her body, she pulled on it, enjoying the stretch.

"I figured you wanted to talk to me since you invited me over, but you haven't said a word all night," he replied.  She didn't say anything as she stretched her other arm, but she knew she didn't have to admit the truth.  They both knew he was right.  "Not even after Jack left with Francie."

Tears filled her eyes.  "What do you think about it?"

He shifted in his chair and reached for his beer.  He'd been careful all night to set it back in a position so that it looked like Sydney could be the one drinking it.  She'd been surprised to see him grab it earlier; it wasn't often that he touched alcohol anymore.  "I don't know.  I guess I'm mostly shocked."

"Shocked?"

"What did you want me to say, Sydney?"  Will ran his hand through his hair.  "That I'm angry?  I'm not.  I wish Francie had told me about it, but I think I can understand why she didn't."

Sydney pushed her hair behind her ear and stood up.  "She's ashamed."

"Maybe," Will acquiesced.  "I doubt it, but I guess it's possible."  He paused for a moment and the look in his eyes made her feel uncomfortable.  He knew her, all of her faults and her weaknesses.  Her strengths, too.  Even Francie didn't know her as well as he did.  "But I don't think the biggest problem you have with it is how Francie is feeling."

She looked at him.  "My father and best friend are having sex."  She almost gagged on the words.  "I have all kinds of problems with it."

"No."  He stood up and walked towards her.  "I think the main problem for you is that you know it's not just sex between them.  You wouldn't like it if it was, but you don't think it is, and you like that even less."

Walking around the living room, she grabbed up his beer bottle and finished off the remaining warm liquid.  "How do I know that, Will?"  Her own anger vibrated back at her, grew.  "Dad won't even let me ask questions; he told me at breakfast yesterday that it's none of my business.  And that I'm not to bother Francie with any questions or comments."  She sounded like a ten year old having a fit to her own ears.  "If I have any problems, I'm supposed to take them to _him_."

"And there's one answer to your question.  You know that it's more than sex because Jack's protecting her.  He cares enough to protect her.  From you."  She swallowed the anger that welled up in her, wanting to protest that Francie didn't need protection from her, and Will sighed.  "Sydney, you know that Francie loves you.  She doesn't want to hurt you.  If she's with Jack, she really cares about him."

Some of the ice melted from her heart.  Will was right; it hurt even more hearing that they cared for each other.  That they hadn't been sneaking around for some hot--and temporary--sex.  Watching as her father kissed Francie goodnight had told her Francie's feelings.  "I know.  And he's going to hurt her."

Will opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and shook his head before walking towards the kitchen.  As he reached into the refrigerator, he asked. "Why is he going to hurt her, Sydney?"  He pulled out a Coke and headed back into the living room.  "How do you know that?  Because he's hurt you?"

Sydney spun around on her heels and walked away from him.  "We're talking about Jack Bristow."

"Yeah, we are."  Will put his hand on her shoulder.  "We're talking about the man who tried to protect me from my own mistakes.  He risked a lot, Syd, trying to get me back from Khasinau."

"He made the world believe you were a heroin addict, Will," she said.  She remembered watching him learn how to deal with everything he'd lost--his job, his reputation, most of his friends.  It had been a dark time for him.

He laughed.  "And you didn't even utter a protest!  Didn't try to suggest even one alternative.  You let the world believe I was a heroin addict, too, Sydney.  Does that mean you're going to hurt Francie?"

It would be easier to take physical punches instead of emotional ones.  She'd thought he would agree with her.  That's why she'd made sure he was there before Jack arrived.  Instead of being angry, he'd smiled as Francie and Jack stared at one another and told them to have a good night.  "My father--"

"Loves you.  He protected _me_ because he didn't want you hurt."  She shook her head.  "Yes, Syd, he did."

"He put you in danger--"

"Because he thought _you_ were in danger from a whistleblower."  Will took a step back, and she heard him open his can of soda and take a drink.  "He told me in Paris, before I went into that club, that he wouldn't let me be involved if he thought I would be hurt.  I believed him, and I still think he was telling me the truth."

"You were tortured."  Her stomach twisted as she remembered how he'd looked on that plane.  His sweatshirt had been soaked in his own blood.  She had been too distracted by Vaughn's loss and her first meeting with her mother in over twenty years to notice how badly he'd looked at the time; it had haunted her later in her nightmares.

"Yeah, I was.  And Jack worked to save me.  And he held me while I cried," Will admitted.

She walked over to him, and his arms wrapped around her.  She cried as he held her.  He didn't say anything, didn't make any sound.  He just let her cry.

***

They were lying on the couch.  Her head was resting on Jack's shoulder.  His head was touching hers, and she knew he was watching his own fingers play on her hips.  Silence filled the room, but it was comfortable.

Their drinks were sitting on the end table next to them.  His was almost empty; hers had barely been touched.  She was more of a beer and cooler kind of gal.  The scotch had burned its way down her throat and turned her belly into a furnace.  Jack had seemed unaffected by the drink's potency.

Lying here with him was relaxing.  Last night's silence between her and Sydney had been anything but relaxing.  "You told her not to ask any questions," Francie mumbled.  She sounded as sleepy as she felt.  But they needed to talk about Sydney, and Jack's high-handed handling of the situation.

His fingers continued their soothing motions on her hip.  "Yes, I did."

Sydney hadn't actually talked about her conversation with Jack, but Francie wasn't surprised to hear him admit he'd warned her off.  Sydney had been furious last night, refusing to even speak unless it was absolutely necessary.

Francie lifted up, resting her arm on his chest.  She looked into his eyes and shook her head.  "That's not the way to deal with this, Jack.  We've got to talk about it."

He looked back at his fingers.  "She can talk to me."

She sighed and laid her head back down.  "I'm going to get her to talk to me, and you're going to butt out of my relationship with her."

His fingers stopped playing with her hip.  She snuggled closer to him.  "I know that you were trying to protect me, but I'm a big girl.  I can take care of myself, especially where Syd's concerned."

Silence filled the room again, not as comfortable, but not uncomfortable either.  Jack's fingers started stroking her hip again, and she felt her eyelids grow heavier.  The song they'd danced to earlier played in her head.  "You must've loved her a lot," she mumbled before she thought about it.

She didn't know if he tensed, but she did.  Every muscle was suddenly wide-awake.  She'd never asked about her before.  She knew a lot about the woman, but Sydney had always put her on a pedestal.  Francie had understood; a dead mother could do no wrong.  It wasn't until she'd started dating Jack that she'd found the Saintly Laura Bristow to be a pain.

Francie had never found the courage to ask about her.  She considered the subject off limits.  She knew Jack did, too.  He never mentioned the woman he'd been married to, the woman who'd given him a daughter.  Except for his earlier acknowledgement that hearing "Think of Laura" after her death had made him angry, it was almost as if she'd never existed.

"Until I met her, I never knew that I could love someone that much," he said after a few minutes of silence.  Someone who didn't know him might think his tone cold, but Francie heard the hint of pain beneath the calmness.  "Then I thought I could never love anyone else that much.  Until Sydney was born."

Tears stung her eyes.  She didn't want to hear about Saint Laura.  She didn't want to know about the woman who had made Jack Bristow love her with so much passion.  At the same time, she couldn't find the strength to ask him to stop.

"Laura was in so much pain during labor.  I remember feeling helpless, and I think I threatened the doctor; he always acted nervous around me afterwards.  I also remember hearing Sydney's cries replacing Laura's and being glad that my wife's pain was finally over.  Laura looked drained, pale.  I glanced at my daughter and thought she was ugly.  She was red and wrinkled."

Jack's voice was soft, and Francie knew he was lost in the past.  "I started asking the doctor some questions about Laura.  I heard a nurse call me 'Daddy,' and when I turned around, she put Sydney in my arms.  She was wrapped in a pink blanket, and she looked up at me and cried."

He didn't say the words, but Francie heard them--"And I lost my heart again."

She lay there thinking for a long time.  She almost fell asleep, and she ordered herself to get up.  Her body answered that it would move in a few more minutes. "Spend the night," Jack said.

"Hmmm.  I'm tired.  You're tired--"

"Just sleep," he said.

She knew she should go home.  Just sleeping with someone was in some ways far more intimate than having sex with them.  But the old lie that this was only about sex had fallen apart the second Sydney had walked in on them, and she was too tired of denying how much she cared for him.  She wanted to enjoy every moment she would have with him.

She nodded, and then sighed as he picked her up and carried her into his room.  He sat her down on the cool duvet--gray, she noticed, like everything in the place.  Everything that wasn't black.  She'd never realized there were so many shades of gray.

He unzipped her dress and helped her stand.  It fell to the floor.  He rolled her pantyhose--the first pair to make it through one of their dates whole--down her legs.  He pulled back the covers and silently urged her to slide beneath them.  She did.

Through half-closed eyes, she watched as he put her shoes beneath a chair and her pantyhose across the back of the same chair.  Her dress he hung up on a peg on his closet door, which tugged at her heart just as watching him undress tugged at her hormones.

When he joined her beneath the covers, she turned and laid her head on his shoulder.  Sleep overtook her.

***

Sydney's earlier crying jag had made her eyes ache, but she'd asked Will to start the next movie anyway.  Sitting next to her best friend, thinking about what he'd said, she'd realized it was up to her to take care of the problem.  And she knew exactly how to do it.

Will studied her for a minute as the credits began running.  She couldn't even say what the movie was about, but it was now over.  She almost jumped when he said, "Francie's important to you.  Jack knows that.  He won't hurt her if he can help it, Syd.  And you should know that."

"I hope so," she answered.  She would make sure that he didn't hurt her.  Ending this relationship before anyone got too involved was the best way to go.  "I hope that neither one of them hurts the other, but--" She shook her head.  "They are so different."

"Yeah, they are."  Will grinned, and Sydney questioned how he could be in such good spirits when Francie was playing with fire.  "But then Amanda's different from me, and I think that's a good thing.  I think Francie would be good for your dad, and I think Jack will be good for Francie.  If you let them."

"I don't have any say in it," she mumbled.  But she planned on having the final word.

Shaking his head, her friend chuckled.  "You have every say in it.  You can make them stop seeing each other, Syd, if you really push the issue."

She crossed her arms, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading.  She remembered Jack's earlier warning that it was none of her business.  No questions.  No comments.  "You don't know my father."

"I know him."  Will leaned forward.  "But I don't have your baggage."  He picked up the empty beer bottle and stared at it.  "It's funny to say this, but I'm glad that I found out about SD-6.  Not only because I got to meet the real you, but because I found strength I didn't even know I had."

She stared over at him.  He had loved being a reporter, had wanted to be a reporter for most of his life.  He'd lost his dream because of her life, because he'd stumbled on the secrets she'd kept.  She remembered how the life had drained out of him as he'd watched everything he'd worked for fall apart.

But then she remembered the last six months.  All the changes he'd made.  How he had started almost embracing this new life, and she wondered if she would've had his strength in the same circumstances.

His cell phone rang, and they both knew who it was.  Syd watched his face break into a smile and heard how his voice changed as he talked to the lady on the other end.  He always sounded different when he talked to Amanda.  "Yeah, I'm going to be heading out soon.  Did you have fun with the girls?"  He laughed.  "I'll be home a few minutes after you.  Got to give you some time to warm up the sheets first."

Laughing, he told Amanda that he loved her and hung up the phone.  He lost his smile when he looked at Sydney.  He sighed and slid back down on the couch.  Putting his arm around her, he leaned towards her and said, "Look, Syd, I know you're used to saving the world."

She flinched.  "I don't--"

"Yes, you do.  While the rest of us are sleeping, you're out taking care of stuff we don't want to believe exists, and that's one reason why I love you.  In a world of apathy, you try to make a difference."

Tears pricked at her eyes again.  "Will--"

"Yeah, I know," he said, laying his head on hers.  "Someone might get hurt.  Someone you care about may end up with a broken heart, but, Syd, it's not yours to change.  It's not your right to make that choice.  Remember, sometimes you just have to find the strength to accept what you cannot change."

She recognized the words.  "The serenity prayer."

He pulled away and laughed.  "Yeah.  Sometimes I got so sick of hearing that damn thing.  I would go into my NA meetings and want to scream 'But you don't understand!  I'm not like you all!'  But I was.  I am.  I had to learn that lesson, too.  You can't change the past.  _I_ can't change the past.  My reputation was gone, and I had to figure out a new path for my life.  And I'm pretty happy with where I'm at today."

He sighed and smiled.  "I don't mean to preach, Sydney, but I know it's hard.  I can't imagine what I would do if Amy started dating someone your dad's age.  Hell, I don't know what I would do if she was dating your dad.  But I think you need to leave it alone.  Drop whatever plans you've been making--"

She looked over at him with her jaw dropped, and he grinned.  "I know you.  Remember?  You're the gal who's used to action.  Sitting back and doing nothing isn't going to be easy for you."

"I can't do anything, can I?"  She closed her eyes.  Will was probably right; Francie already cared.  She would be hurt no matter what was done now to protect her.  "I mean, if I try to do anything--"

"It's their relationship, Syd.  Sit back, let them work on it.  And try to forge a new relationship with both of them."

"I liked the ones we had," she complained.  She started thinking about the last two years.  The starts and stops, the forwards and retreats, in her relationship with her father.  "At least I liked the one I had with Francie."

Will stood up.  "Life's changed.  You can't ignore what's happened."

Sydney thought of the scene that had greeted her two nights before.  "No, I can't."

"Talk to Francie."

Looking over at the clock, she told him, "I'm going to.  Tonight."  She noticed the look on Will's face and had to laugh, even if it did hold a note of pain.  "Okay, I'm in denial.  Obviously Francie isn't coming home tonight.  So, we'll talk tomorrow morning."


	3. Chapter Three

Francie woke up as the first hint of sunlight hit her face.  It took a moment to remember where she was and then she grinned.  Opening her eyes, she noticed the dent in the pillow next to her.  Reaching over, she felt the slight warmth of the sheets; he'd not been gone long.

Snuggling up to his pillow, she strained to hear him moving around.  She heard a cabinet open and close in the kitchen and knew that he was just starting to fix her breakfast.  A Western Omelet.  No cheese.  Just like the first time.

She thought about the date.  Did he realize that they'd been seeing each other for three months now?  Ever since the night of Sydney's birthday . . .

"Happy birthday," she said as she stopped at table 15.

The man looked up at her, and she felt herself starting to blush.  "It's not my birthday," he said with his usual cool tone.

"I know.  But it's Sydney's, and I thought we might celebrate it together."  She held out the wine bottle, and Jack hesitated a moment before reaching and taking it from her hand.  She set the two wine glasses down in front of him and offered him the corkscrew.  Nodding, he took it from her hand as she slid into the seat across from him.

Playing with the napkin in front of her, she looked around her restaurant as he poured their wine.  This was a crazy impulse; she didn't even know why she'd done it.  But just seeing him sitting at her restaurant all alone on Syd's birthday had struck her as so wrong.  And lonely.

"You've done a great job," Jack said.

She turned to stare at him, stunned by the compliment.  It had been given with hesitation, but she didn't doubt his sincerity. She smiled.  "Thank you, Mr. Bristow."

"Jack.  Please."  He handed her the glass of merlot.  "I still think of my father when I hear 'Mr. Bristow'," he admitted.  

For some reason, she thought that was mostly a lie, but she nodded and said, "Jack."

"Here you go," Janet said as she stopped by their table.  The waitress sat down the salad Francie had ordered before heading over to Jack's side of the table.  The waitress had been shocked by Francie's choice for a dinner companion.  "Isn't he a little old for you?" she'd asked in a horrified whisper.  Francie had laughed before explaining that he was the father of a friend.

Jack's steak was grilled rare, and Francie studied the presentation.  This chef was working out much better than her last one.  The kitchen was calm, and there was no strange food "art" on the customer's plates anymore.

She held up her glass.  "To Sydney.  May her birthday being as great a day as she is a woman."

Their glasses clinked together, and Jack took a small sip before setting his down.  He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the blood-red meat.  Francie poured her Ranch dressing across her salad and mixed it around.

They continued to eat in silence.  After finishing half his meal, Jack set down his fork.  "Sydney is a remarkable person."

Looking up from her salad, she replied, "Of course she is."  She sat down her fork and studied him.  "I've never doubted it."

He looked away, and then back at her.  "But you've doubted that I've felt the same way."

She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.  She'd imagined that they would exchange a few pleasantries, eat, and then go their separate ways.  No serious discussion.  

She could lie to him, laugh away what he'd said, but it wasn't her way.  She looked him straight in the eyes.  "Yes, I have."

He took a sip of his wine.  "I don't blame you."

She took a bite of salad.  Swallowing, she said, "You've really been there a lot since Danny died.  I know you're trying."

Playing with her food, she thought about the Sydney she'd first met.  Still grieving for her mother, but mourning the emotional absence of her father more.  "It couldn't have been easy for you after Mrs. Bristow died."

His face became expressionless.  "No."  He reached for his wine glass and took a gulp.  "It wasn't."

Something wasn't right tonight.  She'd met him a few times over the years, and he wasn't one to worry about other's opinions.  "Jack, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," was his first answer.  Then, he picked up his fork and looked at his half-eaten steak.  "I'm--just concerned about Sydney."

"She's done a lot of traveling, Jack.  She knows how to take care of herself," she answered.  She waved Janet away before the waitress could even move towards their table.

"Yes," Jack said before taking a bite.  He looked over at another table and frowned before returning his attention to her.  "But she's not traveling with Dixon this time.  Sloane decided to send her to New York with someone new."

"I bet Sydney wasn't happy; Dixon's a good guy," she said as she picked up her wine glass.

"Yes," Jack answered.  "He is.  And I trust him to look after her."

Francie rested her elbows on the table.  "It's just New York, Jack."

He looked down at his plate.  "Yes, it's just New York."

"And maybe Dixon's not with her, but she can take care of herself," she finished.

Jack looked at her and Francie saw a hint of something that almost made her scared--a fierceness, a sense of pride, that almost seemed too intense in the circumstances.  "Yes, she can."  He picked at his potato.  "How are your parents doing, Francie?"

Smiling, she accepted his desire to change the subject.  "Good," she answered before taking a sip of wine.

To her surprise the conversation continued to flow.  Jack did not share many of his thoughts, but he listened and asked questions that showed he was paying attention.  It felt good to talk to someone who actually cared to listen to her answers without being paid to do so.  They continued to sit and talk as their dinner plates were cleared, and Francie asked Janet to bring over an urn of coffee.

The coffee was long finished when Francie admitted, "Well, I wish I hadn't said it."  She wasn't sure how the conversation had headed in this direction, and she wasn't sure why she was sharing something so personal with Jack, a man she barely knew.  Thinking back to that dark day she'd learned the truth about the man she'd planned to marry, she looked over her shoulder and blinked away tears.  She had long ago gotten over him, but it still hurt to remember how she'd attacked Sydney when her friend had tried to tell her the truth.

It was then that she noticed that her restaurant was empty except for some staff and them.  Talking to Jack, she'd been oblivious to the activity going on around them.

"I'm sure Sydney understood," he said.

She bit her lip and nodded.  "I know she did, but I never should have lashed out at her like that.  She's my best friend; I should've known that she would never hurt me if she could help it."

He reached across the table and touched her hand.  A familiar warmth--one that she hadn't felt in a long time--swirled around in her belly; she told herself that she was being silly.  This was Jack.  Sydney's father.  Besides being too old, he was out of her league.  Too complex.  Too emotionally stifled.

Staring down at their hands, Jack muttered, "Sydney understands saying words you don't mean in the heat of anger.  Unfortunately, she and I have exchanged our share of harmful words when we've fought."

"I still shouldn't have said them," she whispered.

His thumb trailed across her knuckle.  "No," he agreed.  "But you need to forgive yourself for making a mistake."  He looked into her eyes, and the warmth in her belly grew.  "You're only human."

"Francie?" Janet's voice intruded.  Jack pulled away his hand, and Francie wondered why she was having a hard time focusing on her employee.  "We're all done."

She looked down at her watch and couldn't believe that it was so late.  "Oh, no.  I didn't realize--"

"I've got the receipts tallied and the deposit ready to go, but I can't make it tonight.  I'm going out with some friends.  Missy and Marla are coming to pick me up here."

"That's right.  You told me.  I was going to ask Billy--"

Janet winced.  "He left fifteen minutes ago."

She closed her eyes and sighed.  "And I don't have my car."  It was in the shop getting repaired.  Again.  She'd had three separate wrecks since her restaurant opened.  She sometimes wondered if the place had jinxed her.  None had been her fault, but she kept expecting the insurance company to come up with some reason to cancel her policy.

"I'll take you," Jack offered.

She shook her head.  "You don't have to--"

"I'll take you," he said again, making it sound more like an order than an offer.

Staring back at him, knowing it wasn't a good idea, she nodded.  "Okay.  Let me go get my stuff."

The trip to the bank was done in almost total silence.  She sat in his comfortable car and twitched.  Her hands wouldn't stay still, and she had a hard time telling him how to get to the bank she went to every day at least once.  

When they pulled up in front of her apartment, neither one of them moved or spoke.  The tension in the car didn't make any sense to her mind.  It was Jack, not someone she'd gone out on a date with.  All she had to do was say "thank you" and "good night" and head towards the door.  It was all she had to do.  "Would you like to come in for coffee?"

Jack's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.  "It's getting late."

"Not that late, and I'm used to staying up a couple of hours after closing."  She gulped and looked down at her hands.  "I'd appreciate the company."

She felt his eyes on her.  The heat her body was feeling intensified.  Hearing him nod, she closed her eyes and asked herself if she was crazy.  This was Jack.  Jack.  Sydney's father; the one that had never been there when she was growing up.

He got out of the car and walked over to her side.  Opening the door, he reached in and offered his hand.  Her fingers felt scorched when they touched the tip of his.  As she slid out, her dress fell down around her ankles, and she felt the cool night breeze blowing.

She met his eyes and licked her lips.  His focus shifted to the where her tongue had just been.  "Francie--" he whispered.

She started walking forward, forcing him to follow.  Reaching into her purse, she looked for the keys with shaking hands.  Even as she opened the door, she denied to herself what she was planning on doing.

Blinking in the brightness of the kitchen, she walked towards the counter.  "Syd said you like your coffee strong, and I do, too," she babbled.  Her hands were shaking as she pulled down the canister of coffee beans.  "I like mine fresh, too.  It doesn't take all that long to grind the beans.  I don't know how so many people drink that pre-ground stuff."

She turned and saw him standing there with his overcoat still on.  "I'm sorry," she said, putting down the beans.  She reached up to touch his lapel.  "Let me take this."

Her mouth was on his.  She wasn't sure who initiated the kiss, but she knew it was moving up the ranks on her list of best kisses.  His tongue slid into her mouth as she used his lapel to pull him closer.

She wasn't aware of how long they were kissing, but she was aware when he started pulling away.  "Francie."  She kissed him.  "This really isn't--" Her mouth stopped him from saying the words.

Pushing his coat off his shoulders, she directed him towards the living room.  Somehow they ended up lying on the couch with her on top of him.

Jack tried one more time to stop their rush into madness.  "Francie, this is--"

She pulled away from him.  "Crazy?  Stupid?  Nuts?  I already know that, Jack.  But I don't care.  Do you?"

Jack stared at her.  And she felt him struggling to calm his breathing.  He closed his eyes and then opened them again.  He shook his head as his fingers worked their way through her hair and brought her mouth back to his.

She went up in flames . . ..

***

Sometime later, she was shocked to find herself lying on his chest.  This time the stroke of his fingers on her back weren't awakening desire.  They were comfortable, and Francie was scared that she'd made a bigger mistake than she'd thought.

As much as she was loving--liking being in his arms, she wished he would go so she could gather her thoughts.  Gathering her courage, she pushed herself up on her forearms and looked down at him.  Tell him to go, she told herself.  "Do you want to stay the night?"

Jack looked almost as surprised as she felt.  She prepared herself for his blunt no, followed by his departure.  Instead, he nodded hesitantly.

Leaning down, she kissed him.  And the familiar warmth started in her belly again . . ..

"What are you thinking about?" Jack asked as he brought in a tray of food.

Sitting up, Francie grinned as she looked down at her usual:  a Western Omelet--no cheese--and two slices of toast, light on the butter.  It was the meal he fixed for her every morning they were together.

"I'm thinking about three months ago," she answered as she bit into her toast.

"Our first date," he said.

She blushed, thrilled that he remembered.  "Well, I thought about dinner, too."  She giggled.

Jack managed a small smile.  He sat down next to her on the bed and played with her hair.  "You were beautiful that night."

"I'm not beautiful now?" she teased.

The look in his eyes made her shiver. "Yes," was all he said, but she hadn't needed to hear the words to know his opinion on her looks.

She set down the piece of toast.  "I never thought to be here, Jack."

He understood that she didn't mean his apartment.  "I never thought to be here, either."

She picked up the tray and set it to the side.  She slid into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder.  "Do you regret it?"

Feeling the muscles tense beneath her, she expected the question.  "Do you?"

"No," she answered, playing with the hairs of his chest through his robe.

"I don't either," he said before covering her mouth with his.


	4. Chapter Four

Sydney was in the process of putting the skillet into the sink when Francie walked into their apartment.  Her roommate was obviously lost in her own world as she sat her purse down on the bar.  The smile on her face made Sydney jealous and worried at the same time.  It'd been a long time since she'd been so happy in love herself.

It'd been a long time since she'd believed that love was easy.

Telling herself that now was not the time to think about her complicated love life, she instead focused on the concern she was feeling.  "Good morning," she said.

Francie spun around and looked at her.  She laughed, and it was so easy and carefree, and Sydney dreaded the day her father would inevitably break Francie's heart.  She'd have to be there to help pick up the pieces after he left, and it was going to be painful.

"Good morning," Francie told her as she practically bounced into the kitchen.  Sydney could tell that the easiness was forced on Francie's part; she didn't blame her.  Sydney knew she had not been easy to live with lately, but she could tell that Francie was determined to move on in their friendship.  Work past the wounds.

Feeling relief, Sydney looked down at the skillet in her hand.  Holding it in Francie's direction, she said, "I just scrambled myself some eggs.  Want me to make you some?"

Francie's eyes closed briefly before a soft smile touched her lips.  "No, thank you.  I've already eaten."

"At Simone's?" she said, naming her father's favorite place to eat breakfast.  It was where he'd taken her for their breakfast meeting.

Francie looked confused by the question.  "No, actually, Jack made me breakfast in bed."  The last two words came out choked as Francie obviously thought about what she was saying.  Sydney watched as the smile left her friend's face.  Francie looked down at her clothes and winced.  Then, she looked up at her, and Sydney could see the tension Francie was feeling in the tightness of her lips.

"I didn't even know he cooked," Sydney said, determined herself to move past the tension and the awkwardness, putting the skillet into the sink.  Then a flash of a memory played through her mind.  "Actually, I think I remember him cooking a lot when I was a kid.  When Mom . . . was alive."

"I know he makes a mean omelet," Francie said with a grin.  "And some killer toast, but I don't know about anything else."

Sydney nodded, lost in old memories that she'd forgotten until now.  "Mom actually wasn't a very good cook.  Dad did a lot of it."

Francie looked away and then back.  Sydney could tell that she was struggling to hide a smile.  "What?" she asked her friend.

Biting her lip, Francie looked like she wasn't going to answer, but she finally said, "It's the first thing I've heard that your mother didn't do perfectly."

What Laura Bristow had done perfectly was lie.  And kill.  Of course, Sydney couldn't tell her that, and she knew Jack would never share the truth about his marriage to "Laura Bristow" with Francie.  He'd never expose his own gullibility that way; more lies on top of lies.  Francie deserved better.

Walking past Sydney, she reached into the drawer and pulled out a fork and handed it to her roommate.  "You'd better eat those eggs before they get cold.  Go.  Sit.  Eat."  She got down the canister of coffee beans.  "I'm going to make us some coffee--some good coffee--I can't believe Jack only has _instant_ at his place--and I'm going to take a fast shower while it brews."

Blushing, Sydney looked down at the fork in her hand and nodded.  It was still hard to imagine her father and friend being intimate, but she knew why Francie was determined to show it to her.  They only had two choices: act like it wasn't happening or acknowledge that it was.  And Francie wasn't the type to hide her actions.  Which was one of the many reasons it had hurt so much that Francie had hidden her relationship with Jack.

Sydney headed over to the bar where her plate resided.  Francie ground the beans and started brewing the coffee before turning and looking back at Sydney.  "I know Jack did his heavy-handed father routine on you, and I'm sorry.  I should've known better than let him talk to you first.  I told him that you and I are going to talk, and he's just going to have to live with it."

Almost choking, Sydney reached for her water glass and took a large gulp.  "You told _Dad_ to mind his own business?"

Francie grinned.  "Yeah, I did.  Now, I'm going to go run and take my shower, and when I get back out here, you and I are going to sit down and talk.  If that's okay with you?"

Forcing a smile, she said, "I'd like that."

She took a few more bites of her eggs, but she didn't enjoy them.  Her stomach felt queasy, and it took a moment to realize why.  Francie had told Jack to butt out.  And he'd apparently agreed to do it. Sydney tried to imagine getting her father to do or not to do something, and it hurt knowing that he listened to Francie with ease when he never listened to her.

Noticing that the shower had stopped running, Sydney washed up the few dishes while waiting for Francie to reappear.  Hearing Francie's bedroom door open, she poured them both a cup.  She held out the one with Sweet & Low to Francie, and her friend took it with a grateful smile.  "Hmm," she said after taking a sip.  "This is good coffee."

She pointed her head towards the living room, and Sydney followed.  They sat down on the couch, and Francie took a few more sips of coffee.  Sydney sat sidewise, looking at Francie, who was sitting correctly at the other end.

"How did this all start, Francie?" Sydney asked, still unable to believe that it all wasn't some horrible nightmare.

Francie glanced over at her and set the coffee mug on a coaster.  After taking in a deep breath and slowly exhaling first, she answered, "It all started with dinner."

"When?"  Another question that had been haunting her since she'd found out.

Francie looked uncomfortable.  She sighed and rubbed her forehead.  "Your birthday," she finally answered, looking Sydney straight in the eyes.

"My birthday?"  Tears pricked at her eyes, and she wasn't sure why.  Maybe because it was while she was risking her life to prove to Sloane and the man he'd sent to spy on her that she was loyal to SD-6, her father had been having a nice dinner with Francie.  Maybe having more.  She didn't have the courage to ask that one, and she knew Francie wouldn't answer it.

"He came to the restaurant to have dinner, and it struck me that it was wrong for him to be eating all alone on your birthday, so I went over and joined him.  It was late, and most of the crowd and cleared out by then.  I wasn't needed, and--"

Francie smiled.  "He needed me."  Picking up her coffee mug, she said, "I wasn't expecting a comfortable dinner.  I mean, I'd never really gotten along with your dad, but he really listened to me, Sydney."

"Dad?"  She couldn't hide her disbelief.  Jack Bristow listened to no one.

"Yeah, Jack," Francie said, a frown on her face.  "Sydney, I know you two have a lot of baggage, but he's not the monster you've built him up to be in your mind."

She felt as if she'd been slapped.  "I've never said he was a monster."  She shifted around uncomfortably as she thought about everything she had called him--to his face--since she'd learned they shared the same job.  At first, she'd never even given him a chance to explain himself before yelling at him.

Francie got up and walked back into the kitchen.  Sydney turned her head and watched as she poured herself another cup of coffee.  "He really listened to me, Sydney.  Asked me questions.  Acted like what I had to say was important.  It felt good," she finished as she walked back into the room.

Sydney shifted around.  "I know you haven't really dated a lot since Charlie, with the restaurant taking up so much of your time, but--"

"I'm not talking about Charlie," her friend interrupted.  She shook her head.  "Sydney, most of the time you walk around this apartment like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.  And maybe it is; I couldn't handle bankruptcies and watching people lose everything they worked so hard to get."

Sitting down, she leaned forward, the coffee mug held between her hands.  "And Will's trying to save the world; he lives in a different kind of place now.  The people he hangs out with everyday have problems I don't even want to know about.  They make all of my problems seems so tiny; hell, my problems are tiny!  But I don't always understand where Will is coming from anymore, and besides, he has Amanda.  Both of you deal with big issues in your jobs, so I don't always feel comfortable talking about the fact three people called in sick, even though it's important to _me_."

Francie smiled and took a sip of coffee.  "Jack listened to me that night.  I know he must have had tons of more important stuff he could've been doing or thinking about, but he sat there and _listened _as I talked.  Everything I had to say was important to him, or at least he made me feel that way."

Sydney looked down, suddenly realizing how bad a friend she'd been in the last couple of years.  Working for SD-6 had been hard on her friendships, but working for both SD-6 and the CIA--not to mention her desperate desire to destroy SD-6 as soon as possible--had made it hard for her to maintain any friendships, even with those closest to her.  "I'm sorry."

Her best friend shook her head.  "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Sydney, just trying to explain the _hows_ and _whys_ that you're wanting."

Shaking her head, Sydney admitted, "I still have a hard time picturing you and my dad--"

Francie's laughter was soft, and her face showed both determination and embarrassment.  "I do, too, Sydney.  I mean Jack's old enough to be my father, and he's so unlike anyone else I've ever been with but--"

Francie turned to look at her.  "I feel comfortable with him, Sydney.  Safe.  But strong, too, because I know he respects me for being me.  There isn't any ego demanding to show me that he's 'the man' or any of that stupid crap."

Sydney felt like crying.  It's how she wanted to feel around her father:  safe and comfortable.  She wanted to believe that he had faith in her abilities, and most of the time she did feel that way, but she wanted to be more than a great agent in his eyes.  She wanted to be a great daughter, too.

Francie set down her coffee cup, and Sydney noticed that her hands were shaking.  When she looked back at her, there were tears in her eyes.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you.  I should have, but I kept thinking that it would end.  I kept telling myself that it was crazy and that it would all be over with so quickly that you didn't need to worry about it."

Standing up, she walked past Sydney and stared at their kitchen.  "I remember him standing there at the door the next morning, after that first crazy night, and I was trying to think how to say goodbye, because I knew I would only see him again when he came to see you, and then he said that you would be gone again on Thursday.  He asked if he could pick me up for dinner."

Shrugging, she walked towards the patio doors.  "I told myself that it was crazy, but I said yes and thought it would be the last time I saw him.  And then we went out on another date, and another one."

She turned to look back at Sydney.  "I never wanted you to find out the way you did."

Closing her eyes, Sydney thought about walking in and finding them together.  Being totally honest with herself, she wasn't sure that being told would have made it any easier.  She still would have hated the idea of the two of them together.

Letting a few tears fall down her face, she admitted, "I hate that the two of you are together.  It doesn't feel right to me.  I think you're going to get hurt, and--"

She stopped and bit her lip.  "And I really hate feeling that you're not in my corner anymore."

Francie sat down next to her, perching herself on the edge.  "Sydney, I'm always going to be your friend," she said.  "And Jack's always going to be your dad, and I know what you're feeling, but--I'm happy, Sydney, and I want you to just be happy for me.  And with me."

She nodded.  "I'll try, Francie.  I will."

Francie grinned.  "That's all I ask."  She lost her smile.  "Sydney, I'm always going to be in your corner.  Maybe it will be different now, but I'm always going to be fighting for you; I love you."

Sydney hugged her.  "Thank you," she whispered, ignoring all the doubts and fears and anger that were swirling around in her.


	5. Chapter Five

"You needed to see me, Arvin?" Jack said as he walked into Sloane's office.

The head of SD-6 stared at him for a split second before waving for him to take a seat.  With his face schooled into a careful non-expression, Jack sat down and waited for Sloane to speak.  Instead of saying a word, Sloane reached down and slid a manila folder across his desk.

Jack reached for it, a small lump in his throat.  Chances were that it was nothing, just some report of interest to Sloane, but there was always the possibility that it was something else, a report, a photo, a hint that Jack--or Sydney--was a double agent.  Making sure his face showed none of his anxiety, he opened the folder.

And fought down rage.  He flipped through them, his jaw clenching tighter as he studied each photograph.  The fact that they existed was not surprising.  He had noticed the men during his first dinner with Francie and a few times since.  But he'd never expected to be confronted with photographic evidence of Security Section's silent presence in his life.  In Francie's life.

Noticing that none of the pictures were of a particularly personal nature, he took in a deep breath and forced himself to relax.  "Security Section must be bored," he said as he tossed the folder back onto Sloane's desk.

"You know that this agency requires sacrifices," Arvin answered, his hand stoking back and forth on the desk.  "There is no such thing as a personal life here."

"And there is no reason why my relationship with Francie should be of any particular interest," Jack answered, struggling to keep his voice smooth and disinterested.

Sloane crossed his fingers and leaned back in his chair.  "She's young enough to be your daughter, Jack."

"I can do basic math, Arvin."

Resting his arms on his desk, Sloane leaned forward.  "What's Sydney going to think?"

Jack stared at Sloane for a moment before answering, "She doesn't like it."

"She knows?"

"Yes."

Arvin rubbed his forehead.  "You told her?"

"No."  A heartbeat worth's of silence passed.  "She walked in.  At an inopportune moment."

"I know that I'm not her father, Jack, but--"

"No," he snapped, unable to hide his anger completely.  "You're not."

Arvin nodded as he stood and strolled around the desk.  He leaned back against it, still studying Jack.  "Jack, I hope you know what you're doing."

Jack looked down at his shoes for a moment.  Then he looked back at the man who was both his enemy and his friend.  He wondered if Sydney would ever understand what he felt for Arvin Sloane.  He'd never tried to explain it to her; he doubted she could comprehend hating and admiring the same man.  Admiring not the man he was, but for the man he used to be, the man he could've been.  Hating him for the man he was.  "It won't interfere with my work, Arvin, if that is your concern."

"It's not my only concern, but I'm glad to hear that you know your obligations."  He walked back around the desk, picking up another folder as he did.  "I have an assignment for you."

Realizing that the conversation was returning to mundane matters, Jack relaxed and waited to hear what his next mission would be.

***

"Call him," Will said as he laid down a card.

Francie, biting her lip, looked up from her hand.  "What?"  She looked over at Amanda, who was looking over at Will.  "Call who?"

"Call who?"  Amanda tossed down a card.  "I think we all know who."

"He's at work," Francie answered, tossing down her card.

"Then you know where to get ahold of him," Will answered.

Francie tossed her cards and shook her head.  "I don't usually call him at work.  Besides--"

"You've spent the whole day with us," Will started.

"While wanting to be with him," Amanda finished.

Will grinned over at his fiancée.  "True."

"I'd get a complex if you hadn't introduced me to him," Amanda answered, leaning back against the couch behind her.  "I'd want to be with him, too, if I were you."

"Hey!"

She leaned forward and reached across the coffee table that had been doubling as their card table.  Putting her hand on the side of Will's face, she laughed.  "Honey, I just want to be with you, but you can't deny that Jack Bristow is one hot man."

"Actually," he began.  Francie tossed some popcorn in his direction, making him laugh.  "I'm sorry, but I don't see the attraction.  I guess he's good looking.  For a guy."

"Well, Sydney looks a lot like him," his fiancée replied, "and I know you think she's hot."

Will blushed.  "W-well," he stuttered.

"I love to make him blush," Amanda said with a grin.  It was a light teasing, and Francie was glad to see that Amanda was aware of Will's past feelings for Sydney, and wasn't bothered by them.

Francie nibbled on some of the popcorn.  "She looks a lot like her mom did, too, actually."

Will glanced back down at his cards.  "Yeah, I've seen her pictures."

Francie frowned.  "You know, she used to keep them out, but I haven't seen them in a long time.  Over a year.  I wonder if she put them away?"

"Probably.  They mean a lot to her," Will mumbled.

"Call him," Amanda said, changing the subject back to the original conversation.  "We can do without your companionship tonight at dinner."

Francie glanced at the phone and shook her head.  "That's not how our relationship works."

"Oh?" Amanda said, making Francie realize how stupid that sounded.

"I've always waited on him to call most of the time."

"That's not like you," Will said.

"No, it's not," Francie admitted.

She glanced back at the phone and was stunned to realize how afraid she was to call.  In the last few months, since Sydney had found out, Jack had been so busy at work.  And the last month.  The last month had been the worst.

They'd not had sex even once in the last month.  Ever since that trip to London.  He'd been too busy to do more than an occasional dinner.

  
Or he was saying he had been.  Francie admitted that a part of her was afraid that he was just trying to figure out how to break up with her.  After all, Sydney now knew about them.  He knew it would make things awkward with his daughter.

Francie looked back at Will and Amanda who were looking at her with understanding.  "He's crazy about you, Francie," Will said, proving that he really did know what was scaring her.

"That he is," Amanda said, leaning one elbow on the table.

"Call him," Will said.

"I've been stupid lately.  Haven't I?"

Will and Amanda both looked away and whistled like they hadn't heard the question.  Francie grinned.  "I guess that means you both know what's been bothering me?"

"Yeah," Will and Amanda said together.

"Jack's not the type to not say what he thinks," she said.

"Oh, no," Will said.  "Now stop moping about and call him."

***

"Ms. Calfo is on line three for you, Sir."

Jack stopped talking, surprised that Francie had called him at the office.  She had done it before, but only on rare occasions and when he expected her to.  He looked over at Sloane and then back at Mike, the young agent who had brought him the message.  "Tell her that I'm in conference with Mr. Sloane, and that I'll call her back soon."

Mike nodded.  "Yes, Sir."

"Francie."

"Yes.  K-Directorate needs--"

"You're still seeing her."

Jack stared at Sloane for a moment.  "Yes, I am, but I'm sure Security Section has kept you informed."

Sloane studied him.  "They have."

"K-Directorate needs--"

"I'm uncomfortable, Jack."

Jack paused.  "About this mission?  It seems clear to me.  We shouldn't lose anyone, if every thing goes according to plan, and I believe the intel we received was accurate."

"Uncomfortable about your relationship with Ms. Calfo."

Managing to hide his anger, Jack said, "My personal life--"

"You have no personal life, Jack.  None of us do.  You know that, better than most," Sloane said, walking to stand directly in front of him.

"I'm sure that she's been cleared by Security Section.  She does live with Sydney," Jack said, reminding himself that he couldn't put his fist into Sloane's face.  No matter how tempting it was.

Ever since Jack's relationship with Francie had come to Sloane's attention, the head of SD-6 had subtly worked to break the relationship.  Jack's trips out of town had increased drastically.  Sloane always said that he needed Jack in those locations, but most of the assignments were relatively easy to handle.

Jack had been managing to juggle the increased work load and his relationship fine until London.  In the month since that disaster of a mission, Jack had felt tortured as he'd been forced to keep his hands off Francie in order to hide a bullet wound in his shoulder.  Of course she had noticed the difference immediately, and he could see that it was bothering her, but he didn't know how to reassure her.  It wasn't like he could tell her the truth, and he'd been unable to find a lie that soothed her.

"I'm not worried about her, Jack."  Sloane paused for effect.  "I'm worried about you.  It's out-of-character for you to date someone half your age."

"I like her, Arvin.  I enjoy being with Francie, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten where my loyalties lie."

Sloane studied him for a minute.  "Make sure it doesn't," he said.  "Please continue with what you were saying about the op in Abidjan."

***

Syd watched as Francie walked in the door of their apartment.  She saw the hint of sadness that her friend couldn't hide, and she knew the reason for it--Jack Bristow.

He was hurting her.  He wasn't meaning to, and Sydney could appreciate what he was trying to do, but--

It had gone on long enough.  Francie deserved better than being dragged along in limbo.  Jack would never make a firm commitment, and Sydney knew that Francie would eventually leave her father because he lacked that ability.  But her friend had taken more than enough, and Sydney was tired of seeing her hurt.

And maybe she was tired of seeing Jack hurt, too.  She had sat by his hospital bed in London and watched him talk on the phone with Francie.  Watched him try to explain why the business meeting was taking more than a week extra to finish.  She'd almost believed it bothered him to lie to Francie.

Almost.

It was time for her to get involved.  "Hey, Francie."

"Hey, Sydney."  Francie sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Long day?"  Sydney said, patting the seat next to her on the couch.

Francie sank onto it.  "A little bit.  Business was really booming today."

"Guess that's why you're back home so early tonight."

Hesitating for just a moment--she hardly ever discussed her dates with Jack--Francie answered, "Actually, Jack had a lot of work to do at the bank.  He needed to go back and finish it."  Her voice was soft, hesitant, as if she didn't totally believe what she was saying.  Then she said in a firm tone, "You both have been so busy lately.  You didn't even get to stay at Amanda's party last month."

"That really bothered me, too," Sydney lied.  She would've been upset at being called away from the party--and she let everyone, including Will, think that was why she'd almost been in tears when she'd left--except for the fact that Sloane had been the one to call her.  He'd called her personally to tell her that Jack had been injured.  He had made it sound worse than it was, but it had been close.  The bullet could have hit a vital organ; the fact it hadn't had only been luck.

"I know," Francie sighed.  She laid her head back and closed her eyes.  Sydney tensed when she asked, "Why haven't you quit, yet?  I thought the bank was supposed to help pay for what you really wanted to do--teach.  You have your PhD and you're still there."

Sydney opened her mouth, but she couldn't find a lie.  "I want to, but--"

Francie opened her eyes and looked at her.  "But?"

Running her hand through her hair, she said, "I don't know.  I like my job.  I think it's important.  And I'm enjoying working with Dad."

All of which was true.  She did enjoy her job, because she was working for the good of her country, the good of the world, by helping take down SD-6 and the Alliance.  She hated the lying, but that wasn't all her job was about.  Her job was important, not just to her, but to others.  And she did enjoy working with Jack.  She'd learned more about him in the almost two years she'd been working with him than she'd known from the previous twenty-six.

"Teaching's important.  You would enjoy it, and I'm sure Jack would understand," Francie said, her eyes studying Sydney.

She smiled.  "True.  Maybe I'm just comfortable where I am, even when I'm uncomfortable."

Francie winced.  "I understand that feeling."

Sydney thought about the sadness in Francie's eyes, and decided to help her friend end what was no longer fun for her.  "I have a reservation for four to the Golden Palace Wednesday night.  I want you and Dad to join me and a friend."

"Wednesday night?"

Sydney heard the hesitation in Francie's voice and knew the reasons.  Besides never having eaten dinner with her father and friend as a couple, Sydney also knew Wednesday would be their anniversary.  Six months.

"Have you asked your dad?" Francie asked.

"Not yet.  I wanted to ask you first.  I'll ask him tomorrow at work, if you're okay with it," Sydney said.  "I'd really like to take you two out."

Sydney knew she'd won with that last shot.  Francie wanted Sydney to be happy about her relationship with Jack.  Nodding, Francie said, "Okay.  Clear it with Jack, and if he's okay with it, then so am I.  I've always wanted to try out the Golden Palace."


	6. Chapter Six

Francie was shaking as she walked into Jack's apartment with him following close behind her.  She turned to face him as soon as the door shut behind.  She'd been good.  She hadn't yelled at him in the hallway--where the control came from she didn't know--since he hated public scenes, but now they were in the haven of his apartment.

Of course, they had both been so good at the Golden Palace.  The tension had quietly grown between them as Sydney's plan became more and more obvious.  Poor Lance, unaware of his role in the drama, had increased his efforts to charm Francie as she'd grown more and more distant.

When they'd reached Jack's car, after he'd slid in behind the wheel, the tension had exploded into a gigantic argument.  It was not how she'd wanted to spend her sixth-month anniversary.  The last sentence argued in the car had been about Jack's plan to take her out someplace special for the evening.

Now safely inside his apartment, she spun around to face him, yelling, "Maybe if you hadn't been working so damn much I would've known that you had plans to take me out someplace special!  Or I would've at least known that you weren't too keen on the idea of going out with Sydney."

"You know that my job requires--"

"That you don't have a life?  It strikes me as strange that when you imported airplane parts, the job had the same requirements."  She almost winced at that comment.  Knowing how Jack felt about his failures as a father, she'd been hitting below the belt.  But she hurt too much to care.

She noticed that his fists were clenched; she'd never seen him so angry.  It felt good to see him get just as furious as she was feeling.  "I **exported** plane parts."

"It didn't matter what you did.  All I remember is that you weren't there for Sydney.  Kind of the way you've been with me for the last month or so," she snapped.

"Then maybe you should go out with Lance.  He's more likely to be there when you need him."

Tears struck her eyes, but she'd be damned before she let him see them.  "Maybe I will," she said as she stormed towards the door.

His hand wrapped around her forearm, yanking her around to face him.  Before she could even gasp, his mouth slammed down on hers.  His tongue forced his way into her mouth, and she met his anger and passion with her own.

She found herself pressed against the door.  If she had time to think, she might have been surprised by his forcefulness.  He'd always let her be the leader before.  Or it had been soft and slow.  But tonight was fast and furious, and he was taking charge.

He jerked off her coat and slipped his fingers beneath her sweater.  She clawed at his jacket, forcing it down his arms.  He jerked back and yanked at his jacket.  As it clung to him, he growled.  Francie heard a seam rip, and it fell to the floor.

Then she was up in his arms.  There was no gentle stroll this time.  Jack marched her into his bedroom as if he were on a mission.  She loved it . . ..

***

Francie groaned as she woke up.  She wanted to stay asleep, but the smell of coffee and the hand on her shoulder were insisting that she wake up and start her day.  She blinked open her eyes and eyed the coffee mug.  Gray.  She was at Jack's.

Grinning, she sat up--ignoring protesting muscles--and reached for her cup.  "Good morning," she said as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug.

"Good morning," Jack said as he walked away from her to look out the window.  He had a great view of LA, but she doubted he looked at it much.

She took a sip of coffee as she wondered why Jack didn't sound as pleased as she did about last night.  Was he still angry with her?  She had said some cruel words last night.

"I'm sorry."

Jack turned to stare at her.  "You're sorry?  For what?"

"For everything I said last night."

Shaking his head, he said, "You didn't say anything that didn't need to be said."

"That's not true, Jack."

He looked back at the window.  "I have been working too much lately."

"Yes," Francie said, "and I always told you that it was okay instead of talking about how I was feeling.  Which is wrong.  Waiting until I was mad to handle it was not smart, and I said things in ways they didn't need to be said."  She put the coffee mug down on the nightstand and tossed the covers to the side.

She laid her head on his back and said again, "I'm sorry."

He didn't turn around or respond to her presence.  "As far as I'm concerned, you have nothing to apologize for, but I'll accept it if it makes you feel better."

She pulled away and stared at him.  "You're not acting like it."

When he finally turned to look at her, she was shocked at the anger blazing in his eyes.  She almost took a step back.  "I haven't forgiven myself, yet."

"You didn't say anything that--"

He gently took her hand in his and turned it over, exposing the inside of her wrist.  "I bruised you."

She looked down at the tiny mark.  It was big enough for a thumb print and would be gone in a few days.  "You're upset about this?"

"I hurt you," he said.

Looking back and forth between his face and her bruise, she wanted to laugh.  He was so upset about nothing.  It made her sad.  "Jack, it's a little bruise.  It's nothing serious."

"It is to me."

She thought about all the times he'd let her be aggressive.  How he'd never been the aggressive one.  Until last night.  When their argument had provoked him into letting his guard down.  "Jack, you'd never hurt me.  Not physically."

He rubbed his thumb across the mark he'd left the night before.  "It doesn't look that way."

Francie shook her head.  "If you weren't wearing that shirt, I bet I could find a few marks I left on you."  She took a step closer and reached for the buttons of his shirt.  "In fact, I remember biting down on your shoulder a little harder than I should have last night."

His hands stopped hers.  "It's not the same."

She felt her jaw tighten.  "So, what you're saying is that I can hurt you, but you can't hurt me?  I thought we were in a relationship, Jack.  And I don't really like double standards in my relationships."

He looked as if he was about to argue, but the flash of anger in her eyes must have warned him.  He stared down at the bruise and then shook his head.  "I am sorry for what I said, too."

"We both fell right into Sydney's hands," Francie muttered.  If her friend was here right now, she'd strangle her.  Even though it had been a brilliant plan, and she was sure that Syd had convinced herself that she was doing it for Francie's own good, it had been especially cruel to Jack.

He said nothing.  Francie turned and walked back to get her coffee.  "Sometimes I forget how much she's like you."

"Like me?"  Jack sounded surprised by her words.

Sinking down onto the bed, she studied him.  He was dressed in a shirt and slacks.  He looked tired, and she bet he hadn't slept much after the intense lovemaking session last night.  He probably sat up most of the night worrying about what he'd said, about how he'd lost control.  About their age difference--which Syd had made sure to highlight at dinner.

"You can't tell me, Jack Bristow, that you didn't carefully orchestrate the break up of Sydney and John Marcum in the eleventh grade."

She smiled at the look on his face.  She sipped on her coffee as he replied, "What makes you think I was responsible?"

"Oh, I don't know.  Maybe because it was the only time you asked Sydney to entertain a co-worker's daughter--one who never showed up again.  Or maybe it was how she was just perfect for the job.  Her IQ was apparently lower than her bust size, and anyone who knew John Marcum knew he wasn't going to be able to resist that much temptation.  And anyone who knew Syd knew she would never forgive him for not being able to resist."

Jack opened his mouth, and she thought he was going to lie to her, but then he smiled.  "He was a pothead and using her."

"Don't forget he was an absolute asshole.  I don't know what Syd was thinking dating him," she said, shaking her head.

"Sydney never realized--"

"Nope," she said.  "And I never pointed out the obvious to her."

"She would've continued to date him just to get back at me," Jack said as he walked to the other side of the bed.

Francie laughed.  "Yeah, she would have.  She probably would've married him.  I guess now I know why you never forbid her to see him."

"Sydney's stubborn."

She leaned over and kissed him.  "Yes, she is."

He glanced over at the clock and started to stand.  "You need to start getting ready if you're going to be at the restaurant on time."

"I took today off.  Billy's opening for me."  She noticed the time and shook her head.  "But you have to be getting ready to get to the bank."

"Actually, I took the day off, too.  I thought that maybe--"

"We'd be too worn out after celebrating six months together," Francie finished, thrilled that he'd had the same plans as her.

She leaned forward and kissed him.  He returned her kiss and gently pushed her back down on the bed before slowing kissing down the side of her neck.  She shivered as he continued his gentle exploration of her body.

"I love you."  The words escaped without permission.

Jack tensed in her arms.  Then he pushed himself up and looked at her.  He said no words, but his kiss was answer enough for her.


	7. Chapter Seven

Sydney noticed Francie sitting on the couch the minute she walked in the door.  "Hi," she said, trying to sound normal but failing.

Her friend didn't say anything; she simply stared.  Sydney put down her purse and walked into the living room.  "Francie--"

"I know you think you did the right thing.  I know you think using Lance to point out how little your dad and I have in common in music and movies was a good thing."  Francie turned to look at her, and Sydney was left in no doubt of her fury.  "But it was sneaky, underhanded, and wrong."

"Francie--"

"You hurt me last night, Sydney.  And you hurt Jack.  Lance was a great guy, and you made sure to highlight all that I had in common with him, and you made sure that Jack felt totally left out as you and Lance talked about bands and movies and other trends he doesn't know anything about."

"Francie--"

"Yes, Jack and I have a huge age gap between us, Sydney.  I know that.  He knows that.  But we enjoy being together anyway."

"I'm sorry," Sydney said.  "It's just lately you've seemed sad--"

Francie shook her head.  "I have been sad, Sydney.  Jack's been working a lot.  It's been bothering me, but not so much that I'd discussed it with him."  She bit her lip.  "Actually, you've been responsible for some of my doubts."

"Me?"

Her friend looked at her with regret and determination on her face.  "You and Jack are a lot alike, Sydney.  When Jack started working so much, I started thinking about all the times I've been left Bristowless during the major events of my life because of that damn bank.  I was wondering if I could handle watching both of you walk out on my birthday parties or at some big event I was having at the restaurant."

Tears stung Sydney's eyes.  "Francie--"

She held up her hand and shook her head.  "I don't want any apologies for all the times you've left.  I've gotten used to the idea.  And thanks to last night, I've realized that I'm willing to be waiting when Jack gets home.  Just like I've waited for you so many times."

Francie stood up and walked over to where Sydney was standing.  "One reason I'm willing to wait for him is that because, unlike you, when he's with me, he's with me.  He listens, he talks, and he doesn't act like his mind is busy elsewhere."

Sydney struggled to talk, but Francie wasn't waiting for a reply.  "I love you, Sydney.  I love him, too.  And I want _both_ of you in my life, but if you keep pulling the crap you pulled last night, keep trying to force me to make a choice, I'll make it.  And I can't promise you'll like my decision."

Francie turned and started to walk away.  "I'm going to have dinner with your father on Thanksgiving Day.  Let me know if it's okay for him to come here and celebrate with all of us, or if I need to make our dinner at his place."  She started to leave again and stopped.  Her eyes were sad, but Sydney didn't doubt her sincerity when she said, "And if it'd make it easier on you for me to move out, just let me know that, too."

****

Sydney handed him the platter without saying a word.  A few swipes of the towel dried it, and Jack set it down on the counter; he didn't know where anything went, but he'd insisted on doing the dishes.

He had two different reasons for volunteering.  One was Francie; she'd looked exhausted from all the work she'd done earlier.  As long as he was in the kitchen, he could keep her out of it.  His reward was hearing her out on the balcony laughing with Will and Amanda.

His other reason was his daughter.  He'd known that she would do the dishes, and he wanted to spend some time with her.  Ever since the night her plan had backfired, she'd been avoiding him.  He admired her strategy; using Dixon's brother to highlight the age difference had made him uncomfortable.  The fact Dixon's brother had been Francie's age and handsome--"Man wasn't meant to look that fine," Francie had joked later--had made him jealous as hell.  Both feelings had made him act like an idiot.

Fortunately, Francie had understood his reaction and forgiven him for it.  The sex that night had been hot, fast, and furious.  But the next morning had been incredible; she'd revealed how well she really knew him, and she'd told him that she loved him.

Turning away to hide the grin that was breaking across his face, he gruffly asked, "Where does this go?"

"Over there," Sydney said.

He turned to find her still elbow deep in water and using her toe to point to a cabinet.  He wondered if she realized that Laura--and he--had insisted on the ballet lessons she'd taken as a small girl for the strength, endurance, and flexibility it would give her.  Nodding, he walked over and stooped down.  "It goes under the bowls," Sydney said from behind him.

A few minutes later, she passed him the broiling pan.  It had taken some scrubbing on her part, but it looked like new.  Jack started to use the damp towel on it, but Sydney said, "Leave it in the drainer.  It has to be put up in the hall closet anyway.  We only use it for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

Jack nodded and did as she said.  She started to walk away, and he said, "Sydney."

She turned to look at him, her face a familiar mask.  Only he'd grown familiar with it on _his_ face, not hers.  Sometimes she was too much like him, and it scared him.  He heard Francie's laughter again, and smiled at the sound.  "Thank you for inviting me."

He saw a flash of something--anger?--cross her face.  She glanced in the direction of the laughter from outside and nodded stiffly before starting to leave again.  He tried to stop her.  "I--"

She stiffened and then spoke without looking at him.  "I'm sorry about Lance.  It was childish of me."  She turned to look back at him.  "But she was so hurt by your 'working' all the time, and I knew you would never be able to tell her the truth.  I knew that you were lying, that you had to hide your wound, but I think Francie deserves to be with someone who can be honest with her."

"Sydney--"

"Brrrr," Amanda said as she strolled into the kitchen.  "Sorry, but I felt like I should act cold after spending a part of Thanksgiving night out on a porch."  Both women in the room now wore matching grins, but Jack knew Sydney's was faked.  Amanda reached in and grabbed out a cold soda.  "Where I'm from," she continued, "it's cold on Thanksgiving Day."

Jack smiled--slightly--when he answered, "It is cold."

Amanda laughed as she pushed back the flip-top.  The can hissed in agreement.  "I mean really _cold_."

"I've lived in Los Angeles for most of my life," he informed her, "and this is what I consider normal now, but I remember my first Christmas here.  People were walking around with short sleeves and driving with the convertible tops down, and I was walking around thinking Christmas trees didn't look right in summer temperatures."

"Oh, yeah," Amanda said as she took a sip.  Her grin was real.  "It still seems strange to me.  Will loves teasing me about it.  But when I called my mom last night, she said it was three degrees back home.  Three."

Jack didn't know Amanda's story, but Will had hinted at how tough her life had been.  But even if Will had never mentioned this woman, there was no way to miss the sadness that had played across her face as she talked about calling her mother.  Or the way she'd stumbled over the word "home."  There was no doubt in Jack's mind that the conversation had not been what she'd wanted it to be.

"When I told Will that, he acted like I said my mother was living in hell.  He immediately went upstairs and put on some sweat pants."  

Sydney laughed and put her hand on Amanda's back.  "Everything is done in here, so let's go out and enjoy sitting in our great weather."  They walked out of the room, leaving Jack alone.  Shaking his head, he reached inside the refrigerator and picked up a can of Coke for Francie before going out to join the crowd.

****

Sydney flipped through the magazine and stopped at one of the ads.  It was a nice outfit, and she made a mental note to stop tomorrow at the advertised boutique.  Then she remembered that tomorrow was the first official shopping day of the season.  Maybe it would still be in stock some time in January.

"Sydney," Francie's hesitant voice said from the doorway.

Looking up, Sydney saw her friend standing outside the door.  At one time, Francie would've walked straight into the room, excited by whatever she wanted to say.  But six weeks ago, everything had changed.  Their relationship was now strained, and Sydney knew it was her fault.

"Hey," she said.  She tossed the magazine onto the nightstand and patted the bed in front of her.  "Dinner was excellent, as always."

Francie smiled and walked into the room.  She sighed as she sat down on the bed.  Sydney grinned when she noticed Francie wiggling her toes.  "Thank you.  My feet are killing me.  You'd think I'd be used to standing at the restaurant all day, but there was something about standing in that kitchen today. . .."

Sydney leaned back against her pillows, relieved to hear Francie talking to her normally.  Not that Francie had been rude lately, but she'd been hurt, and she hadn't been herself since the night Sydney had worked to destroy her relationship with Jack.

She didn't blame her; it had been a mistake.  "You get more walking in at the restaurant instead of just standing in the same spot."

"True," Francie said as she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.

Sydney was silent for a moment.  "I thought you would be leaving with Dad tonight."

Francie tensed and opened her eyes.  She studied Sydney's face and then relaxed.  "I wanted to, but Jack told me to get some rest.  He's taking me out to dinner tomorrow night."

Telling herself to be quiet, to not talk about the issue standing between her and her friend, Sydney said, "Where do you see it going, Francie?"

Her friend sat up and reached for a pillow.  Gathering it in her arms, she leaned on it, and sighed.  "Where do I see my relationship with Jack going?"

Sydney bit her lip.  "Yeah."

"I don't know, Sydney.  I really don't.  I never thought to be with him, and I know it's not like me.  Usually I like having everything planned out, but I'm okay just going moment to moment with him."

"You're afraid to push the issue," Sydney said and wanted to kick herself.  It was something she'd realized earlier while watching Jack with her.  They'd both been intimate but restrained.

Francie opened her mouth and then closed it.  She laughed softly.  Sydney heard the sadness.  "You're right.  I keep expecting him to say it was a mistake.  Or maybe I'm thinking it won't work out, so don't push anything."

"You can't live like that forever," Sydney told her.  She was sincere in her concern; if Francie were acting like that with any other man, Sydney would've said the same thing.

Francie stared over at the wall.  "You're right.  It's time to see if we're going to commit to this relationship."  She tossed the pillow back on the bed and hugged Sydney.  "Thank you."

Sydney sat on her bed not sure what she'd just done, but feeling good about it.  And worried, too.  Because she knew that Francie had already committed her heart.

****

"Happy Thanksgiving, Mom!"

"Hey, Francie!"  Angela Calfo said from the other side of the phone.  Her excitement made Francie grin.  Hearing her mother's voice always made her feel like she was home again.  Safe and secure.  Her most difficult decision back then used to be what color top to wear with those jeans that weren't as tight as she wanted but were as tight as her mother was going to allow her to wear.

She heard the click that warned her that her father had picked up the other line.  "How's my baby girl?" Chris Calfo asked.

Laughing, she sat down on her bed and curled up her legs to sit Indian style.  "I'm doing good, Daddy."

"Still working too hard I bet," Angela said.

"Mom--" Francie said.

"Angie--" Chris said.

"I know, I know."  Angela sighed.  "She has to work hard to make sure her business is a success.  But you looked really successful when we were there this summer."

Francie grinned, remembering how her mother had fretted about her opening her own restaurant.  She had immediately started researching it when Francie had told them what she was going to do.  She'd driven her daughter crazy citing all the statistics about failure rate and other items that concerned her.

Finally seeing the restaurant last summer had relieved Angela's doubts.  Francie remembered the visit; she's been thrilled that they were there and disappointed that she hadn't been able to see Jack for almost two weeks.  He'd understood, and had made no effort to see her while her parents were in town, which had pleased and upset her.

"It's still a lot of work, Mom."  Francie wished phones still had cords.  She loved the mobility, but the phone cord used to be great to keep her hands busy.

"I know, I know.  I just wish you had a personal life to go along with that professional life," Angela said.

"Angie--"

"I'm her mother, Chris, and I think she needs to find a man."

Francie heard the determination in her mother's voice, and knew there was no way to stop the lecture tonight.  Saying things like she didn't need a man to be happy had never worked before.  Or there wouldn't have been any way if she hadn't already made up her mind earlier in Sydney's room to confess.

"I am seeing someone, Mom," she said.  It was suddenly so hard to breathe.  In. Out.  Don't pass out.

"Really?"  Her mother's excitement screamed across the phone lines.

She licked her lips, knowing that the excitement wouldn't last long.  "Yeah."

"That's great, Francie.  Is he a good man?" her dad asked.

"Really good," she answered, knowing that he would probably disagree.  He'd never cared for Sydney's father.

"So tell me all about him.  How long have you two been seeing each other?"  She could picture her mom.  She was probably sitting down in the big, overstuffed leather chair that she loved, and she was imagining that Chris would go to bed soon, and that she would spend hours on the phone with her girl hearing all about the new guy.  Or at least as much as her daughter was willing to share.

Francie really didn't want to disappoint her, but she knew Angela was not going to be any happier with her boyfriend than Chris was going to be.  "Seven months."

Silence filled the phone lines for almost a minute.  "Did you say seven months, Francie?"  Her dad was certain that he'd heard wrong; she could tell by his voice.

"Yeah, I did, Dad."

"You were dating him when we were there?"  Angela sounded so disappointed in her.  "Why didn't you introduce us?"

"I don't need to introduce you, Mom.  You already know him."

"What?"  She could imagine her dad shaking his head, wondering who his little girl was referring to.

"You're seeing Charlie again?" her mother gasped.

"No!" Francie said, shocked that her mother would ever think she'd take back that lying piece of--Of course Angela had made that mistake.  She couldn't think of any other person her daughter would date and not tell them about.

"Who are you dating, Francie?"  Her dad's voice had taken on the 

"father" tone.

Standing up, Francie walked over to and stared out the window.  The LA skyline was beautiful at night.  "I didn't tell you about him because I knew you wouldn't like the fact I was dating him."

"Francie--"

"Listen to me, Dad.  He's not the kind of guy you'd want me to be with, and I never thought we'd last.  Or maybe I was too scared to believe we would.  I hid him away so I wouldn't have to face people telling me 'I told you so' when it ended.  I realized that tonight," Francie spit out like a machine gun.

"It wasn't fair to him, and it's not fair to you, either.  Or me," she sighed.

She could hear her father breathing over the phone, and she waited for him to ask, "Who?"

Taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes, she said, "Jack Bristow."


	8. Chapter Eight

Jack handed Sloane the folder and said, "I think the Alliance will be please with what we've accomplished in Brazil."

Sloane nodded, not really paying attention to the file in his hand.  Jack turned to leave.  "Jack.  Have a seat."

Jack sank into the chair across from Sloane, making sure to keep his face carefully schooled.  "Is something the matter, Arvin?"

"I don't know," Sloane said, waving his fingers across the edge of his desk.  "You tell me."

Jack knew he looked confused.  "I don't understand."

"According to personnel, you've submitted a request to take a week off, Jack.  I can't tell you the last time you voluntarily took any time off," Sloane said, carefully examining Jack.

"I was invited to visit friends out of town," he answered.

"Where?"  Sloane asked.

Jack managed not to grit his teeth.  Much.  "Francie invited me to spend the Christmas holiday with her family."

Sloane leaned forward.  "You're going home to meet her parents?"

"Not exactly."  Sloane lifted an eyebrow, asking Jack to finish the thought.  "I already know her parents."

****

Francie hung her shirts up in her old closet.  As usual, her mother had put her in her old room, and Jack was down the hall in Bobby's old room.  She hadn't expected her parents to put them in the same room, but her mother had at least made the offer half-heartedly when Charlie had first appeared on the scene.

"How's Bobby doing?"  She hadn't spoken to her brother on the phone since he'd gotten his last transfer.

"Good," her mother answered from where she stood over by the door.  Her arms were crossed and a frown creased her face.  Francie knew it wasn't her oldest child that she was upset about.  "He's happy in Germany; he's enjoying the chance to explore Europe."

"Good," she said as she pushed her suitcase up onto the top shelf.

"Francie--"

"Mom, let's not fight about this right now."

Angela walked deeper into the room.  "I don't want to fight about it, Francie."

She turned to look at her mother.  Running a shaking hand through her hair, she said, "Really?  That's funny because ever since I told you and Dad, it seems like I'm getting a phone call every day wanting to debate the issue with me."

"I just worry--"

Francie wrapped her arms around her mother's shoulders.  "I know.  But you'd worry no matter who he was.  He makes me happy, Mom.  I just wish you'd give me a chance to show you how happy I am with him, and how good he treats me."

****

Chris Calfo handed him a glass of wine, but he didn't look happy to do it.  "It's been a long time, Jack."

"Yes, it has.  I believe it was the girls' graduation from college."

Francie's father looked as if he wanted to hit him.  "Yes, it was."

Jack took a sip of the wine and wished it was something stronger.  He wasn't sure why he was here.  He knew it would be an uncomfortable Christmas, especially for Francie, with him here.  So why was he here?

Had it been Irina's sudden interest in his plans for Christmas that caused him to make this decision?  He'd thought the last year had helped him get past the old anger, but he wasn't sure.  No, he was sure.  Irina's taunting about him spending Christmas alone had nothing to do with why he was here.  He'd used it as an excuse to himself.

He was here because Francie wanted him here.  Even though he knew it would make the holiday worse for her, he hadn't been able to say no to her.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Jack," Chris said, taking off all pretense of civility.  "I don't like you dating my daughter.  I don't like you.  I saw how you treated Sydney--how distant you were--"

Jack thought of all the times he'd told people his concern for Sydney was none of their business.  He believed that was true, but he doubted Chris Calfo would appreciate the concept.  "Chris, until you've walked in my shoes, experienced what I've experienced, perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to judge me."

Francie's father looked surprised by his words.  But then Jack had never been open with him; they'd only exchanged a few hellos, permissions for sleepovers and the like. He took another fortifying sip of wine before saying, "I know I was not a good father, Chris.  I've never claimed to be.  Sydney raised herself to be the great woman she is; I don't take any credit for it."

"I can't believe you, Dad.  I thought you would at least let Jack rest from the drive first," Francie said from the doorway.  Jack almost winced from the anger in her voice.  He kept interfering with her relationships; first with Sydney and now with her parents.  He didn't want to, and he knew it would be best to end it so she could be happy.

But he was too weak.

Jack spoke before Chris had a chance.  "Francie, why don't you go visit with your mother for a little while?"

Francie focused her fury on him.  "Sending the kid away, Jack, so the adults can have a serious conversation?"

He walked over to her, leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "I don't think of you as a child, so don't act like one."  Pulling away, he looked down at her.  "I'm a father, too, Francie.  Fathers have the right to worry about their daughters."

She looked at her father and shook her head.  "You had no intentions of giving him a chance, did you?  Neither you nor Mom intended to.  This invitation was just going to be your chance to have it out with him and to force me to listen to all the reasons this relationship is a bad idea since I wouldn't be able to hang up on you if I was here."

"Francie," her father said, unfortunately sounding like a man talking to his teenage daughter.  Jack knew it was the wrong approach; he had learned a lot in the last two years of working with Sydney.

"Don't, Dad.  I don't want to hear it.  You lied to get us here.  'We want the chance to get to know him better.'  It was bullshit," she said.  Jack saw the hint of tears in her eyes and guilt tore at him.  "The sad thing is that I really think you'd like him if you gave him a chance.  He treats me like gold, Daddy."

Chris looked guilty.  "I'm sorry, Francie, but I don't think--"

"He's one of the good ones?"  Her tone was mocking and sad at the same time.  "Like Charlie was?"

Jack felt the verbal slap as if she'd given it to him.  Chris looked devastated by the line, and Jack understood.  Like he told Francie, he was a father, too.  He knew how devastating it was to fail to protect your daughter from people who used and abused her.

"I'm going to go pack," she said.  "We'll spend the night in a motel somewhere on the way back home."

Jack followed her out into the hallway.  He put his hand on her arm, and she stopped walking.  When she turned to look at him finally, he saw her angry tears.  He pulled her into his arms and held her.

"Francie, don't try to rush this."

"Rush this," she snarled into his shirt.  "They never even--"

"It wasn't easy for you to forgive the past either when I first started showing back up in Sydney's life," he reminded her.  "You can't expect them to suddenly welcome me like the prodigal son."

She pulled away and took a few steps down the hallway.  "I know.  It's just--" She sighed and ran her hand through her hair.  "I don't know.  I expected it to be like before, I guess, and that doesn't make any sense."

He knew what before she was talking about.  She'd told him that she'd brought Charlie home to meet her family before he'd proposed, when she'd thought that relationship would be "the one."  Her family had treated him like one of their own.  "They know they failed you the first time.  They don't want to do it again."

Francie's shoulders slumped.  "They didn't fail me.  I'm the one who didn't see the signs of what a first-class jerk he was.  And it's not just about protecting me from my choices; they don't like you, Jack."

"For good reasons," he told her.

"You know, you never interrogated Danny and--"

"No, but I had him investigated," Jack said.

Her jaw dropped open.  "What?"

"I had him investigated."

"You mean like by a private eye?"

Jack thought of the thorough report Security Section had handed him.  "Yes, by a private investigator."

It amazed him how hard it was to lie to her.  Sydney thought he often lied to Francie, but he didn't.  If he had to go to London, he didn't tell her Boston.  He told her oversees.  He always tried to tell her the truth or at least as close as he could get.

"Francie, I'm going to go back into the living room and talk to your father.  You told me to butt out of your relationship with Sydney, and I'm now asking you to return the favor.  Butt out.  Let us work our relationship out; don't let our relationship interfere with your relationship with them.  Please."

Francie shook her head and then smiled.  "Okay.  Fair enough."  She walked up and kissed him.  "But don't be surprised if I need you to take me to go get stitches."

"Stitches?"

"Yeah, from biting my tongue!" she answered over her shoulder as she strolled away.

He enjoyed the view until she turned around the corner.  Then, gathering the courage that let him face down bombs and guns, he turned to face one of the scariest people on the planet--an angry father.


	9. Chapter Nine

"Tell me that's over," Francie said.  He noticed her pinch herself.  "Oh, yeah, not a dream."  She grinned as she leaned back in the seat.

Jack carefully merged onto the freeway as he said, "It wasn't that bad."

Laughter filled the car.  "No, it wasn't that bad," she said when she recovered her breath.  "You and Dad never drew pistols, and Mom stopped looking at you like she wished she could fire lasers from her eyes sometime after dinner last night."

He almost grinned; it had been a tension-filled long weekend.  "At least I didn't have to take you to get stitches in your tongue."

She groaned.  "Not for lack of trying on my part.  I love my parents, Jack.  A lot.  However, more than twenty-four hours in the same house leaves me feeling like I want to strangle them or scream or both."

Laying a hand on his arm, she explained, "It's not just how they acted towards you that drove me nuts.  Anytime I come home, they start acting like I'm their little girl again.  Mom said she thought this shirt was too short--" Jack looked over to where just a hint of Francie's ab muscles peaked out beneath her top.  "And Dad started asking me if I needed money in the midst of a 'Don't run a big debt' lecture.  If they come to LA, they seem to remember that I'm an adult, but anytime I come back home--" She stopped and shook her head.

"You consider it home?"

Francie thought for a second and then nodded.  "Yeah, I do.  I mean Bobby and I both just lived in that house during college breaks, but it's where Mom and Dad are, so it's home."

Home.  Family.  Words, ideas, that were important to her.  He'd always been aware of it, but the holiday had reinforced his awareness.  It had also made him more aware of how important he was in her life. . .

_Jack's wine glass was still sitting where he'd left it before following Francie out of the room.  Chris looked older than he had just a few minutes before.  Maybe it was the slump in his posture that made him look older._

_"Jack," he said, "you're the only man besides Charlie that Francie's brought home.  She never brought home any of her college boyfriends, no matter how many times we told her to invite them.  When she brought Charlie home, she told me that brought him home to show that she was committed.  When she was excited about Angie's offer for you to join us for Christmas, I knew she was committed."_

_Jack said nothing, letting Chris talk.  What could he say?  That he knew Francie's heart was committed?  That he'd never meant to go so far with her, had never even meant to have a relationship of any kind with her?  And could he honestly say that he was committed, too?  He'd finished his drink and tried to ignore the voice inside that was screaming "Yes!"_

_"My daughter's committed to you, Jack.  I don't know why.  I don't like it.  And I can't say what I'll do to you if you hurt her."_

_"I understand."*_

"Hey," Francie said, rubbing her hand up and down his arm, obviously aware that his mind had been elsewhere.  "It's over for at least another year."

"You don't think we'll be invited back until next Christmas?" he teased her.

"Nope," Francie said, shaking her head.  "It'll take that long for Mom and Dad to recover.  Besides, I doubt Bobby will be able to make it back before then."

"Their backup."

"Oh, yeah," she answered.  "I'm waiting for the long letter from him to arrive any day now telling me why dating you is a bad idea."

He took her hand in his.  "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she answered.  "You're not the only one in the relationship, Jack.  You don't make all the decisions.  I chose to be with you."

He noticed a car in the rearview mirror and realized it had been following them for the last four miles.  The style of driving told him that it was probably Security Section.  "Jack?"

"Sorry," he said.  "I'm watching the tailgater in the back."  Fortunately, the car behind was driving on his bumper.

Later, he noticed Security Section taking a few photographs as he unloaded the trunk and helped her carry her luggage inside.  As he watched her unpack, he thought about the man and woman sitting in the car across the street waiting for him to leave.  They'd expect him to go home and unpack, and he knew he should.

But watching the lovely woman in front of him move across the room as she gently hummed to herself, Jack knew he couldn't.  He was tired of it all.  He remembered how it was with Laura--he wouldn't think of her as Irina.  He'd shared far more than he should, and he doubted he could ever be that open with anyone again.

_"Francie deserves to be with someone who can be honest with her."_

_"I knew she was committed."_

_"I chose to be with you."_

But would she choose to be with him if she knew what she was sacrificing?  Would she be happy even if she knew that people sometimes watched her movements because she was dating him?  Could she be as committed to a man she knew was a spy instead of a banker?

He could never be the man he was in his first marriage.  He could never share that much intel again about his movements and his choices, but he didn't want to be with Francie and have her not understand the dangers he faced or the possible threats to herself that dating him brought to her life.

"Let's go," he said.

Francie, in the middle of hanging a skirt that Jack knew her mother had also considered too short, looked over at him. "Go where?"

"For a drive."

"Jack, we just spent six hours in the car, and I'm really tired--"

"Francie," he said, taking a step forward.  "I need to talk to you.  But I don't want to do it here."

She turned away and finished hanging the skirt.  "Okay," she said with a voice that was full of doubt and worry.

It didn't take him long to lose the Security Section detail--he often asked himself who was training these kids today--and as soon as he was out of the city, he picked up speed and made his way to a deserted hilltop.  He'd met Sydney here a few times to discuss mission specs.

Francie looked around at the dry grass and electrical towers.  "This is a little out of the way, isn't it, Jack?  We could've just had coffee somewhere."  He walked around the car and stood in front of her.  She looked up at him.  "What's wrong, Jack?"

"I'm not a banker, Francie.  I don't work for a bank."

She stared at him for a minute and then laughed.  "Of course you do; Sydney works with you."

He forced himself to look at her.  It'd be so much easier not to look in her eyes, not to face the fact he was about to hurt her.  "Yes, Sydney works with me, but she doesn't work for a bank."

Francie's eyebrows drew up in confusion.  "I don't--"

"And Will's never been a heroin addict either."

****

She felt numb.  It was the only word to describe what she was feeling.  She knew she should be feeling more, but she couldn't.  Jack's revelation on that hill had been outside anything she'd expected to ever hear in her life.

He'd been lying to her, which shouldn't have been a surprise.  She seemed to attract the kind of men that lied.  That wasn't a fair thought.  Jack was nothing like Charlie, but right now she couldn't really see any difference.

Sydney had been lying to her, too.  Lying for almost ten years.  She'd smiled and told her story after story about bank meetings and interest workshops and poor little old ladies who had to file bankruptcies.  And she'd believed her.

And Will.  In some ways that hurt the most.  His lie had made her doubt herself as a friend.  She'd started examining everything he had said to her, everything he'd done, looking for an addiction that had only been an act.  It'd saved his life, but it hurt like hell to know he'd lied to her about it.

"Francie," Jack finally spoke from the seat beside her.  As usual, he was driving the car with magnificent control.  She usually envied his ability to become one with the car.  He'd never stopped too hard, never accelerated too fast.  Perfect control.

Now she knew where he'd learned to drive so perfectly.  Instead of driving school, he'd gone to Spy School.  Sydney had gone there, too.

"You can't tell anyone what I said up there.  You can't discuss it; you can't even _hint_ that you suspect I'm not an ordinary banker.  Do you understand me?"

"I understand, Jack," she snapped.  It felt good to feel a little anger burning inside.  Unfortunately it died too quickly.  She didn't have the strength to maintain it.

"Do you?  Danny simply made a phone call and left a message on Sydney's answering machine," Jack said with an unfamiliar urgency.

"Danny?" she whispered.  "Oh, my God.  Will's story. I'd forgotten that he'd mentioned Danny.  They killed him?"

"Yes.  Because he knew."  She noticed how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.  "Do you understand, Francie?  No one.  You don't know who could be spying on you."

He stopped in front of her house, and she felt the seat belt press into her.  Jack was nervous.  He opened the door and offered his hand.  Her knees were shaking but she managed to stand up and get out of the car.  "Sydney should be home later tonight," he said as if they'd only gone for a Sunday afternoon drive in the country.

She noticed him glance across the street, and she knew they were being watched.  How many times had someone sat over there watching her?  Taking pictures of her.  Jack escorted her to the door and leaned down to kiss her.  She didn't even have the strength to return it.

Jack whispered in her ear.  "I know you have a lot to think about, Francie, but whatever decision you make, I want to say 'thank you' for loving me."

He turned around and walked away, leaving her alone.  She managed to open the door--Jack had already taken the key from her hand and unlocked it.  Walking into the apartment she'd been living in for two years, she felt like a stranger.

She stumbled into her bedroom and sank down onto the bed.  She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.  Sitting there thinking about everything Jack said, she cried.

Later, lying on the bed, she heard someone walking into the apartment.  It took a minute to realize it was dark.  She may have been asleep; she wasn't sure.  She just knew that she hurt.  Sitting up, blinking, trying to strain and see into the darkness, she heard Will and Sydney's voices.  They were walking down the hallway towards Sydney's room.

"I guess they decided to stay another night.  Francie said they might before they left," Sydney was saying.

"I can't believe Francie took Jack home to meet the parents," Will said in a jovial tone.  "You know that means she's serious."

Francie heard a suitcase drop on Sydney's bed.  She stood up and started walking towards the noise and the light.  Maybe a few hours spent with friends--even if they were liars--would help her feel better.

"You did what?"

"You heard me," Sydney said.  "I would've talked about it sooner, but you've been so busy with everything."

"Yeah, school's been murder this semester," Will said.  "And trying to work out everything with Amanda's also been hard."

"I know," Sydney said.  Francie heard the bedsprings squeak as Sydney sat down.  "She had to have been furious to find out that your drug addiction was a lie."  Francie gasped, shocked that they were talking so openly about the lies.  "That was one reason why I tried to set Francie up with Lance.  I thought she deserved better than all the lies."

"That's a little hypocritical, don't you think, Syd?"

"Yeah, it is," she answered.  "Maybe it was my own guilt that was at work, too."

"How can you all talk about it?" Francie whispered from the doorway.  She was angry that they were being so open.  Hadn't Sydney learned anything when Danny died?  What if Security Section was sitting outside now listening?  "Someone could be listening!" she reminded them.

Will seemed to understand what she was meaning faster than Sydney.  His smile was one of understanding and encouragement when he pointed at the lamp.  "Bug killers in all the lamps in the apartment," he told her.  "I asked the same question."

Sydney looked back and forth at them as if not wanting to believe her ears.  "He told you?"

Francie nodded.  "After we got home this afternoon.  I've been in my room thinking all evening."

Sydney stood up and Francie noticed that her hands were clenched.  "He told you."

"Sydney--"

"He told you."  Sydney slid past her and out the door.  In a few seconds, Francie heard the main door of the apartment slam shut behind her.


	10. Chapter Ten

Jack walked into the warehouse.  Expecting to hear voices, he stopped when he didn't.  He pulled his gun and cautiously made his way into the area where his daughter usually met her handler.  Sydney sat there alone, sitting on one of the boxes, looking down at her legs, which she was swinging.

"Sydney," he said as he re-holstered his gun.

"Dad," she said without even looking at him.

"I expected to find Vaughn here," he admitted, knowing how close Sydney was with her handler.

"He's having dinner with his mom and aunt tonight.  They came to LA just to see him," she said in the same flat voice she'd greeted him with.

"Oh," he said as he walked around to stand in front of her.

He leaned back on one of the other boxes.  "Will called me."

"He told you that I was upset."

"In a strange code that actually worked, yes," he admitted.  "But he couldn't tell me why."

Sydney looked up at him and her fists were tightly clenched as they rested on her knees.  "Francie knows.  You told her."

"I'm sorry," he said.  "If I could have done it without revealing your secret, I would've--"

"You told her."

Jack looked at Sydney, not exactly sure what she wanted him to say.  "I know.  I'm sorry.  I never meant to interfere with your relationship with her, but I thought--"

Sydney shot to her feet.  "You told her.  I worked for SD-6 for seven damn years before you told me, and that was only when they were this close to killing me," she said, holding up her finger and thumb just millimeters apart.  "And even then you only told me the entire story because I wouldn't get out of the car and go."

"Sydney--"

"You told Francie," Sydney whispered.  "Just because you wanted her to know."

Jack stood and walked over to stand beside her.  He sat down on the edge of her box and waited for her to join him.  He didn't want to say what he was about to say.  Whoever said confession was good for the soul had never seen how a confession could rip the soul out of someone the confessor loved.

"When your mother 'died,' Sydney, I was hurt.  I felt numb and then I felt angry and then I felt--" Jack shook his head.  Even the memory of that time could still disturb him.  "Then they told me the truth about her, and they didn't do it kindly."

Sydney looked down at her feet again.  "Sloane told me about the solitary confinement."

Jack's fingers dug into the wood of the crate.  Forcing them to relax, he said, "When I got out, I was just angry.  Angry at myself, life, her."  He looked over at his daughter and admitted, "You."

Sydney turned her head and looked at him.  "Me?"

"I won't pretend it was fair, Sydney, but when I looked at you I saw her.  And I also saw the one reason I couldn't crawl into a hole and die.  The only reason I stayed alive was for you."

He watched the tears travel down his daughter's face.  "I started drinking to numb the pain, tried to hide the anger behind a bottle.  It didn't work, but I kept trying.  Then the CIA revealed that someone else had betrayed my trust."

"Sloane," she said.

"Yes.  He was my friend once, Sydney.  My mentor," he admitted.  "I still remember how nervous I was, how out of place I felt until I met Arvin.  He took me under his wing.  Then he tossed away everything we believed in because the CIA didn't respond the way he thought they should after a mission had gone bad."

"I'm sorry," Sydney said.

"It was a long time ago."  He reached over and took her hand in his.  "If I had been a good father, if I had been thinking as I should've been, I would have resigned and taken you away from all of this.  But I believed in what I was doing, Sydney.  Still do, even though it's been years since I looked into a mirror comfortably."

Sydney shifted on the box, and he knew that she understood.  He could imagine her looking in the mirror--only on some mornings--and not liking the person she was becoming.  It had started slowly for him, too.

"I didn't know that you worked for SD-6 until the Hooper escapade."

"That was four years after I started, Dad."

"I know," he said, squeezing her hand.  "But I was working hard to stay out of your life, and you were working hard to pretend I didn't exist.  I remember your college graduation; you were so uncomfortable introducing me to Will and your other friends."

"I didn't know what to say," she admitted.  "I was shocked that you were there."

He admitted, "I couldn't miss your graduation.  I didn't mean for you to see me."

"Francie saw you first," she told him.  "I couldn't believe it when she whispered in my ear that you were there."

"I didn't warn you about SD-6 at first because I didn't know you were working them at first, and then when I was informed that you'd been recruited, I debated telling you."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, her hand holding onto his with extreme pressure.

"What could I do, Sydney?  I didn't have many options.  I could tell you the truth and tell you to continue to work for SD-6, but I knew you wouldn't.  Which would get you killed.  Or I could try to tell you as I did, with a plan to get you out of harm's way, and we know what happened there.  Even if you had gotten on that plane, we both know how it would've been.  I didn't want you to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.

"And I didn't want you to look at me like you used to look at me right after I first revealed that I worked for SD-6, for the Alliance," he whispered.

He heard Sydney's gasp.  Her voice was shaking when she explained, "I was so angry."

"With good reason."

"Why did you tell Francie the truth?"

"Because the last two years of getting closer to you has made it harder to pretend when I'm with someone I love," he admitted.

The tears were falling faster.  "I should be happy that you care for her so much.  I am happy.  But I'm jealous, too."

"Jealous?"  Jack was startled.

Sydney laughed and cried and nodded her head.  "Jealous.  When she started lecturing Will and me about how we were being reckless, I realized I was jealous as hell.  She gets to know you so easily, and I still feel like I have to work so hard at it."

He put his arm around her.  "You're my daughter, Sydney.  What I feel for you is different than what I feel for her.  I want to protect you, and I've failed you too many times."

She leaned her head on his shoulder.  "You mean we have a lot of baggage between us."

"Yes."

"I want to unpack it," she said.

He ran his hand over her hair.  "I do, too.  You just have to realize it's going to take some time."

****

Sydney walked into the apartment.  Spotting the dim light coming from the living room, she walked into it and found Francie carefully picking up some glass pieces from the floor.  "You made it back," she said.

"Yeah, finally.  I talked to Dad for a little while and then walked around the city some," Sydney said.

Francie stopped what she was doing and looked over at Sydney.  "You walked around the city at this time of night?  Alone?"  She stopped talking.  "Sorry.  I forget.  I guess you can take care of yourself."  
  


"At least I tell myself I can."  Sydney walked into the kitchen and picked up the damp rag still lying across the split in the sink.  Returning to the living room, she carefully reached around and wiped the red stain off the wall.  She doubted it would disappear without it being painted over, but she tried to get out some of the mess.

Francie returned with their Dust Buster and vacuumed up the shards of glass remaining.  "We have one less wine glass," she announced.

"I could tell," Sydney said with a smile.

"I'm sorry," Francie said, yanking the belt of her robe tighter.  "I was just sitting there drinking a glass when I got really angry, and it sounded good crashing against the wall."

"It's okay.  I understand."

Sydney saw the light reflect off of Francie's unshed tears.  "I'm glad you understand because I have a feeling we'll have to buy a whole new set by the time I've worked all this out."

Sydney stood up and hugged her.  "I'll toss them with you if you want, sweetheart."

***

"Surprise!" the entire roomful of people yelled as she walked through the door.

Sydney laughed after she recovered from her surprise.  She started hugging everyone, beginning with her father and Francie.  "Thank you," she whispered in Francie's ear.  Francie grinned and hugged her tighter.  Getting this party together had taken some work, but it was worth it.

Jack had come up with the idea.  "It's the last time she gets to be twenty-nine--honestly--and it happens to fall on a Saturday," he'd said.  Francie had thought it a great idea, and still thought so after all the work it had taken to get these people together.

After a lot of merriment and well-wishing, it became time to cut the cake.  "Where's the cake server?" Francie asked, certain that she had laid it down by the cake earlier.

"Oh, I bought an engraved one," Jack told her.  It's over by the punch bowl.

Resisting the urge to tell him that an engraved cake server for a birthday party was a little over the top, Francie glanced around the table.  Spotting a white box just the right size for a server, she reached over and picked it up.  Opening it, she reached down and almost handed it to Sydney before she noticed the diamond ring around the handle.

Looking back, she found Jack sitting on one knee and looking up at her.  She glanced around the room and saw a few surprised faces, but Sydney and Will and Amanda's faces all said that they'd known this was about to happen.  "Francie," Jack said, his voice a little strained.  She couldn't believe he was making a public spectacle of himself for her.  "This past year you've made me a very happy man.  I hope that I've made you happy, too."

"Oh, yes," she said, tears filling her eyes.

"Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

"Oh, yes," she said, sinking down to kiss him.  "Yes, I will."

****

"You're smiling again," the woman who wore the face of his former wife said.

He looked up from the notes he'd been taking.  "Um?"

"You're smiling again," she said.  "It must be the fifth time in the last ten minutes."

"So you know nothing else about Lawrence's campaign?" he asked.  When she said she didn't, he closed his notebook and stood up.

"Jack," she said.  He turned to look at her, and she strolled over to stand before him.  Before he could even think to react, she leaned forward and kissed him.  He didn't respond for a second, and then realized what she was doing.  He kissed her--kissed the past and what might have been--goodbye for just a moment. Then he pulled away.

"You deserve to be happy," she said with just a hint of tears in her eyes.  "Let her make you happy."

"I am.  I have been," he told her.  Turning away, he left her alone in her cell.

****

He blew his breath out.  Francie laughed as the air swirled around her nipples.  "That's cold," she said.

Jack grinned.  "I can make them warm again."

She ran her hand through his hair.  "I don't think so," she said.  "I want to get a little rest first."

"Youth is wasted on the young," he said and then stopped.  Lifting his head off her chest, he looked up at her.  "Does it bother you at all?"

"Your age?" she asked.  She looked over at the fading sun which was making its patterns across the carpet.  "It does some," she admitted.  "It makes me angry.  Seems unfair.  If we live to the end of our expected natural lives, I'll be left without you."

"True," he said.

She looked back at him and ran her finger though the hair over his ear.  "But we're not guaranteed to live until we're old," she said.  "My grandfather--my mother's dad--died when she was a baby.  My grandmother never remarried.  She used to tell me that when I loved someone, I should love them strongly everyday."  Francie leaned her head forward and kissed him.  "So that's what I'm doing."

Jack laid his head back down on her chest.  He used his thumb to trail across her breast.  He enjoyed watching her flesh shiver beneath his touch.  "Sloane's heard about our engagement."

"Dixon told him."

"Yes."  Jack thought about the conversation this morning.  It had gone just as he'd suspected it would. "Sloane told me congratulations.  He wants an invitation to the wedding."

"I can't believe he just accepted after fighting for a year to keep us apart."

"You're going to be a wife now, and Arvin has interesting views on marriage.  He believes you're loyal to me, just as he believes I'm loyal to him," Jack explained.

"He thinks you'll behave like him and kill me if ordered to," Francie said.

"Yes," Jack said, wishing Sydney had not told her so much.  The less she knew, the safer she was.

"Jack," Francie said as dusk entered the room.  "Are you opposed to having more children?"

He thought he knew the answer, but then he thought of a little girl with Francie's smile racing around the room, playing with her big sister Sydney.  "Not opposed but uncertain."

"I'm not sure I want them, but I didn't know how you felt."

He looked up at her.  "I love you," he said.  The way her eyes widened told him that he'd never said the words to her before.

"I love you, too," she whispered before she kissed him.

****

Jack walked into his apartment, and the smell of lasagna danced through the air.  Francie wearing an apron and nothing else walked out of the kitchen and leaned against the door.  "Howdy, stranger," she said.

"I figured you'd be at the restaurant," he said as he tossed down his suitcase.

Francie laughed and walked into his arms.  "Oh, I've worked very hard this last week, and everyone understood why I wanted tonight off."

"Oh?" he said as he leaned down and placed a light kiss on her lips.

"Yeah," she replied as she continued to kiss him.  "I mean it's the first time I've gotten to welcome you back from a trip since we got married.  Besides, it's also our one-month wedding anniversary."

"Did you have any certain plans to celebrate?"

She grinned and reached up to help him take off his overcoat.  As she walked to put it in the hall closet, he noticed the new vase setting on the table.  It was a brilliant purple color, and it fit in well with the hints of color that had been appearing in his apartment since Francie had moved in a month ago.

"I thought you could carry me into the living room, and we could make love on the couch.  Then after we rest for a little bit, the timer can remind me to take out our lasagna.  While it cools, we take a shower and then eat," she told him as she strolled back over to stand in front of him.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Jack said as he picked her up.  He set her down on the couch and followed her there.

Francie started helping him undo his tie.  "Well, I know how you like your plans."

He stopped and stared down at her.  "I do, but I've learned that sometimes the best things in life happen without a plan."

***

The end!

Thanks for reading!


End file.
